


Darkness at Noon

by Hypsidium



Category: Extreme Ghostbusters (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 01:50:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3632127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypsidium/pseuds/Hypsidium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A retelling of the events of the first two episodes. Follows essentially the same plotline but set from Egon and Janine's mutual perspectives and changes a few details. Written circa 2011.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fistful of Silence

Janine Melnitz was in a bind. She tapped manicured nails against her chin, glaring at her class list. Three lousy credit hours in science and she’d be done with her BA in history once and for all. The downsizing had been rough, but thankfully the local community college had a grant to allow older students to return to school. If she was lucky she could finish her BA and take the test to become a substitute teacher. The work might be unsteady, but most of the teachers she had spoken to already had been subs before they got their full certification, so it seemed like a logical course of action.

 

Not that logic had helped her as much as it could have.

 

She scolded herself for her distraction and went back to scanning the list. 

 

Biology, probably not.

 

Microbiology, heck no.

 

Botany. It sounded interesting, but she understood the macro way more than the micro. Horticulture was unfortunately classified under agriculture or she would have jumped all over that.

 

Astronomy; promising, but she imagined most of it would consist of memorizing names like M19-5 and she had enough numbers to remember with her history classes. Not that numbers were difficult for her, in fact she excelled in mathematics for that reason, but she’d rather concentrate more on her focal studies.

 

Paranormal Phenomena 101. Ha, as if she hadn’t seen enough of that to pass it in her sleep. She smirked, looking over the description. ‘A study in the physical and nonphysical aspects of spectres, spirits, and other paranormal phenomena.’ Probably some wannabe trying to make a name for himself. Who was this chump anyway?

 

PARA101 Hrs: 3 Rm: East 1630 Prof: Spengler.

 

Dr. E. Spengler.

 

She slapped the book shut and stared at the quivering pages for a moment. 

 

Then she stood and walked to the registrar. What the hell.

 

\---

 

On the first day of the new semester she woke up at the crack of dawn, growled at her alarm, and slouched off to prepare for class. Two hours later she felt like growling at her Medieval history professor for sending his grad student assistant to lecture when said grad student had both the most grating voice she had ever heard - and she was from Brooklyn for crying out loud - and the disgusting habit of snorting up snot between sentences. She almost preferred the feel of Slimer’s oozing ecto to the sounds of ‘snrrrrk-glrp-hk-hk-hk’ with every pause. 

 

By the time Paranormal Phenomena 101 rolled around she was tired, her feet ached from walking, and like hell she was taking that ridiculous book assigned to the class. Egon must have been throwing darts at the book list for all she could understand. Of course, Tobin’s was out of print and his own revised edition was probably not acceptable, but still, a quick glance through and it looked like some kind of Weird Tales issue made into the driest, most droning text ever.

 

She checked her watch and groaned inwardly. She was running late and this class was clear across campus. Great. She picked up the pace, ignoring how even her very low heels were bothering her after all the walking. She’d seen plenty of other students in just jeans and sweaters, maybe she could afford to relax a little and come in her tennis shoes...

 

She reached the doors about five minutes after class time and paused to take a breath.

 

“Well, here goes...” She banged the doors open with both hands, no way she could just slip in unnoticed. 

 

“Sorry professor, am I late?” she called loudly.

 

“No, we were just getting - Janine?” The tall, blond man on the stage looked up in surprise, stepping away from the counter he had been leaning against. He reached up and adjusted oval framed glasses. 

 

She paused for just a second, taking him in. A little flabbier around the middle, wearing a sweater in somewhat threadbare shape, and his hair back in a ponytail instead of up in its usual curl. Who was this guy and what had he done with Egon?

 

Then she thought of herself. Longer hair tamed by job and nature, demure and matronly clothing, no color on her nails. She ignored her classmates - a bunch of kids at a cursory glance - and stepped up to the stage to meet him with a hint of a smirk.

 

“I’ve become a big fan of continuing education. Especially since I got downsized,” she added under her breath. “It’s been a long time, Egon. How’ve you been? Still living at the firehouse?”

 

“Yes, well, I’m...You know, I’m...” He lit up, as much as Egon ever did anyway. He smiled warmly, then seemed a little embarrassed by such a bawdy display of emotion, cleared his throat and straightened his glasses again to resettle them on a nose she knew to be ever so slightly crooked from a poltergeist's flying painting to the face early in his career. Nervous habits died hard and she felt a tinge of satisfaction she could still make him feel that on edge.

 

It made her wonder even more why he had drifted away from her.

 

“Ahem,” he cleared his throat again. “Class, this is Janine Melnitz.”

 

“Good morning, Ms. Melnitz,” smirked the Hispanic kid in the second row. Smart ass. One in every class.

 

“Didn’t she work for the Ghostbusters?” asked the guy in the wheelchair. 

 

“Correct, she was our receptionist when the Ghostbusters franchise was still in operation,” Egon supplied. 

 

“I like to think I was more than that to you...” she murmured.

 

“O-of course,” he stammered. “Janine was also in charge of our finances and accounting.”

 

Well, she had pushed her luck far enough today apparently. 

 

What followed was the most boring lecture about the paranormal she could possibly imagine. She couldn’t help but agree with the kid in the wheelchair who kept muttering encouragement to get to the good stuff.

 

They hadn’t even covered how to read a PKE meter yet, much less what one was. He had just spent the last hour discussing how ghosts could register in minute temperature and pressure drops, going so far as to use the projector to show images from barometers and thermometers both.

 

Janine sighed and tried not to nod off. As fond as she was of Egon, he had the perfect voice to fall asleep to. No wonder the enrollment sucked.

 

To preoccupy herself she studied her classmates. The Hispanic guy fell asleep halfway through. The black kid was taking notes as though every tiny detail was on the next test. The lone girl had her eyes closed and was clutching a copy of Spengler’s Spirit Guide as though she had just reached Nirvana and was now enjoying the sound of the universe. The red head in the wheelchair had given up and was now just munching on a granola bar, fist to his cheek as he stared vacantly at the projection.

 

It was going to be a long semester.

 

\---

 

After the class Janine lingered, straightening her jacket and running a hand through her hair while Egon gathered his papers back into his briefcase. He didn’t even seem to notice she was there and almost walked out without her. Typical.

 

“Professor, I had a question,” she piped up, smirking at his befuddled expression as she headed up the stairs.

 

“A question?” He straightened his glasses again, then took them off and rubbed them on his shirt. When he put them back on she was close enough to see the scratches on the lenses from ages of abuse.

 

“Yes, usually they’re accompanied by an answer.”

 

A ghost of a smile. 

 

“I had one too...That is if you don’t mind.” The dark haired girl from earlier. Janine hadn’t even seen her and flinched in surprise. She glanced back at her. She was a tiny thing really, couldn’t be more than five feet tall and was twig thin to boot. Janine distinctively felt like she could break her in half over her knee if she was so inclined.

 

“No, not at all. My office hours start in about half an hour. After dinner,” Egon glanced up at the clock on the wall, then at his wristwatch.

 

“I was hoping you would join me for dinner, actually.” Janine felt she ought to pipe up or lose the nerve.

 

“I...well, sure.” Egon rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll be in my office at 6:30.”

 

“Right...” The girl looked a little crestfallen, but went to gather her gigantic stack of books. Janine felt a twinge of sympathy.

 

“Hey, where’s your car at? We can help.” She felt no shame in volunteering the good doctor. He used to lift 50 pounds of proton pack daily, the least he could do was help one of his few students.

 

“I got it.” The look the girl shot her was venomous.

 

“Suit yourself.” Crush on the teacher or an overactive need for self reliance, maybe both. She knew the type; she had been that type. “C’mon, Egon.”

 

They strolled away in silence, neither really knowing what to say. As they neared the near-empty cafeteria Egon cleared his throat.

 

“So...Read any good books lately?”

 

“Mostly textbooks.” She almost laughed. Almost five years since they last sat down to dinner together and that was all he could think of to say? Well, she couldn’t fault him too much, at least he was trying. It was just like his yearly birthday and Christmas cards. ‘Hello Janine, I hope this finds you well...’ followed by an explanation of why said holiday was not really a holiday or some such. Still, she returned the favor and usually sent him a delivery pie or cake.

 

“Janine?”

 

“Hm?” She blinked, having been staring blankly at the menu.

 

He looked down at his feet, then over at a fascinating trash can. Back at her. He settled on the menu. “What would you like to eat? My treat.”

 

“Yeah? Just pick something then, I’ll get us a table.” 

 

He furrowed his brow at her, and she could see his mind picking apart what she said to try and analyse it into a form he could comprehend. “Alright,” he said finally. “You still like Reubens, correct?”

 

“Correct,” she smiled crookedly, heading for the booths off to the side. What was she doing here, rekindling this...whatever they had? As far as she was concerned he had called it off long ago. But here they were and here they would sit, dancing around to the same tune. 

 

She sighed and traced the false wood pattern on the table, trying to make sense of her life yet again. She could drop the class and sign up for another one, it was only the first day. There might be make up homework, but she could handle that fine...

 

“I’ve missed you.” It was said so softly she almost didn’t hear it. “I apologise. Sorry doesn’t cut it, but I am. I’ve missed you.”

 

She bit her lip and closed her eyes, trying to steel herself. Drop the class, get on with her life, find some nice safe man who would treat her nicely.

 

Then she looked up and saw that damned man with those damned gorgeous blue eyes and his damned stupidly charming tatty old sweater and his damned glasses she wanted to straighten on his damned ever-so-slightly crooked nose and fell in love all over again.

 

She couldn’t drop the class now. Damn his eyes and all their sincerity.

 

At least he wasn’t a half bad dancer.

 

\---

 

After that it became as comfortable as an old habit; Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays they would go eat after class. Mostly Janine brought sandwiches, seeing as when they had agreed to simply bring their dinners Egon had brought a handful of Twinkies and a vending machine donut. She had, more than once, scolded him for neglecting himself. His usual reply was an irritable snort, or a brief explanation that he had simply forgotten on his way out the door.

 

After dinner they would go back to his office where the girl from class, Kylie, was inevitably waiting to discuss some tidbit she had read or heard about. Janine would sit at Egon’s often absent grad student’s desk, quietly doing her homework and listening in. Kylie had at first begrudged her presence, but gradually became used to her to the point of forgetting she was there entirely. 

 

Janine couldn’t help but see a lot of the good professor in his student; brilliant, intrigued, and able to tune out the rest of human existence at the mention of the paranormal. She also noticed that none of the other students seemed to bother talking to her, aside from the occasional attempt from the tall one with the goatee. 

 

She seemed to project the aura of being aloof and detached, but her face right now said something entirely different. She was interested, involved, and enthusiastic. Not Ray enthusiastic, but it was there regardless. She couldn’t help but smile. Kylie was, in many ways, like the daughter Egon would likely never have. Janine suspected there was a parallel somewhere in Kylie’s life; why else would she hang around campus until 8:30? 

 

Glancing at the clock, she noted the time was just that, and shut her book loudly enough to startle the both of them. 

 

“Sorry, I was going to head out.” She smiled, stuffing her books back into her bag. 

 

“Oh, it is 8:30, isn’t it?” Egon looked at the clock, then the time on his computer monitor.

 

Janine nodded, hefting her bag onto her shoulder and slipping her low heels back on.

 

“Kylie, we can continue this thread of conversation tomorrow if you would like. Your source is fascinating.” Egon looked at her without really looking at her, obviously dedicating the title of the book to memory.

 

Kylie nearly grinned, her eyes bright. “Sure, I’ll be back Friday.”

 

Impulsively, Janine interjected. “Why don’t you just join us for dinner for once?”

 

“I...Wouldn’t want to impose,” Kylie seemed suspicious and unsure of how exactly to respond to the invitation.

 

Egon looked vaguely uncomfortable at her implication and very pointedly kept his eyes on the stack of homework papers he was now trying - and failing - to organise.

 

“Don’t worry about it.” She smiled. “Friday at 5, alright?”

 

“Yeah, alright,” Kylie ventured a tiny smile in return before gathering her books and heading out, casting a backwards glance before she disappeared.

 

Janine watched her go. Maybe the kid really wasn’t so bad. She turned to gather her bag, noting that Egon had turned away to look at some fascinating woodgrain.

 

“Well, professor, see you Friday.”

 

“Yes, of course,” he murmured offhandedly.

 

She shrugged inwardly and strode out, leaving him alone to brood over tacky oak laminate under a halo of degrees and certificates. For the second time since the semester had started she felt a pang of regret for subjecting herself to this once again.


	2. Storm Coming

Egon surveyed his class apprehensively, half fearing and half hopeful Janine would show up. He was of two minds of the matter, as he often was when it concerned her. Kylie was there, early as ever, but he only registered her presence in passing and acknowledged her with a flick of his fingers. He looked at his watch for a fourth time. Two minutes until class started.

 

He opened his briefcase and shuffled some of the papers he had taken home to grade even though they were already in order of importance with those ungraded on top. Really, he had no understanding of that woman. It had been so long since they had...Well, there was no use dwelling on it. That was long ago, and she had forgotten much of what had come before. No need to put unneeded stress on her, lest she recall things best left lying in the dust.

 

Then she walked in, sat down in the front row, and his heart caught in his throat, strangling his words before they could be spoken. Again. He cleared his throat and gathered his lesson plan for the day’s lecture, allowing him a moment to clear that infuriatingly fuzzy feeling from his mind.

 

This was going to be more difficult than he had previously imagined.

 

\---

 

He had lectured for the majority of the hour without really paying attention to what he was saying. He could have done it in his sleep. Possibly underwater. Probably backwards. He had spent far too much of his young adulthood explaining why this was all plausible to have any trouble explaining it now. One of his particularly brutal thesis defenses came to mind. Regardless, no one seemed to have noticed his distraction. He pushed his glasses back up his nose.

 

He was all too aware of her watching him now. He was currently trying very hard not to sweat or look discomforted. There were several reasons, if not dozens, as to why there could be no pursuit of her; student-teacher relationship being one of them, and even if it was not nearly the most important factor it could cost him his employment and her years of studiousness. His employment was the lesser of the two concerns on that matter; education was vital and compromising that would be an unforgivable offense.

 

He viciously cursed his luck. He could have lived with all the mishaps, injuries, molecular destabilizations, and possessions if just this one thing in his life had gone right. But, as it so happened, nothing was ever as simple as Occam’s Razor would have one believe. And thus he had to make do with what cards had been laid before him.

 

A familiar babble and chorus of shrieks brought him out of his gloom. 

 

He turned just in time to see Slimer burst through the doors, actually pushing them open rather than phasing through. Interesting. 

 

Then he noticed all those people panicking outside...The Dean would have his head on a golden platter. 

 

“Slimer?!” Janine stood, crossing the short distance to the podium in record time.

 

“Slimer!” Egon called, getting his attention. Slimer floated towards them, obviously distressed.

 

Kylie was thrilled. “A ghost! Yes!” she shouted, standing up in her excitement.

 

“Let’s get him!” cried Garrett, disengaging the brake on his wheelchair and rolling towards them. Egon chose to ignore how familiar that phrase sounded. Slimer would not be here if it wasn’t an emergency, he had for some time feared that due to the diminished spectral activity the little ghost might have been tied to the latent energy associated with the Firehouse. Certainly he had decreased in intelligence and size over time, even his appetite had been affected...

 

“No, wait! Slimer’s a friend!” Janine held up her hands, stopping Garrett in his tracks while Slimer fled to the sleeping Eduardo’s lap.

 

Eduardo, predictably, shrieked and evicted the ghost from his hiding place.

 

Slimer drifted back towards Egon and immediately began rattling off a number of syllables that he could only just identify. His speech was improving with each passing moment, allowing him to vocalize sounds that could be associated with words, something Egon had not heard from the little spectre in quite some time.

 

“The PKE meters? They’re...They’re doing what?” he asked, watching the charades the ghost was re-enacting to get his point across. This could be Bad with a capital ‘b’. 

 

“He wants us to follow him to the Firehouse,” he translated for the others, casting a worried glance at Janine. She returned the look with a furrowing of her brow and a frown. She understood the urgency. Good.

 

“Class dismissed! We have to go.” He turned towards the door. The subway was probably crammed at this hour, great. 

 

“We can take my Mustang, it’s parked right out front,” offered Roland, the quiet student who sat in the front row. Oh thank goodness, his left knee would not have looked forward to a sprint...

 

He had not counted on the rest of the class trailing them out. He was half tempted to tell them to go home, but the circumstances would have made arguing pointless and time consuming when time could be of the essence. So he begrudgingly permitted the rest of them coming, bouncing on his heels as he waited for them to load Garrett’s wheelchair.

 

The ride was excruciating. Roland drove so slowly he was half convinced the young man was doing it on purpose. 

 

Honking cars around them agreed. Out the window a cab driver rolled down his window to shout obscenities and encouragement to pick up the pace. He opened his mouth to agree and caught an elbow in the ribs. He smiled ruefully at Janine.

 

Janine gave him a sharp look before patting Roland’s arm. “Don’t mind him, Roland, you’re very conscientious behind the wheel.”

 

Dropping the subject he unlocked his seatbelt and opened his cardoor, ignoring Roland’s soft sound of surprise as he headed for the Firehouse door and reached for his briefcase to get his keys.

 

His briefcase back on the podium. Forty-five minutes of Roland’s driving away.

 

Hopefully, he tried the door. He had left it unlocked before by accident...No such luck today. “Darn!”

 

He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, calming himself quickly as the rest of them got out of the car.

 

“What’s the deal, don’t you have keys?” Garrett asked.

 

“Yes...In my briefcase back in the lecture hall.” He rubbed the back of his neck, abashed.

 

“Hey, no sweat, I got a surefire method for picking locks.” Grinned the red-head, gripping his wheels.

 

Oh no.

 

Egon backed away fractionally, in apprehension.

 

Oh no no no, don’t break my door...

 

But, of course, that was what happened. Egon winced when he heard wood splinter, the bolt bursting through the other side. He took a deep breath. Okay, that door needed replaced anyway...

 

Of course, in his momentary shock they entered before him, gawking at his embarrassingly dirty home. He bypassed them as they were occupied looking at Ecto-1 in all her late glory, picking up an intact PKE meter from the worktable and turning it on to take a look. The meter sprang to life, the waves spiking in ways he hadn’t seen in years. 

 

“PKE readings are through the roof...” He glanced back at his students to be sure they weren’t touching anything potentially volatile. “This is indicative of a major outbreak of ectoplasmic activity.” Hopefully they would sense the situation and go home, where it was safe.

 

“Ghosts walk among us.” Kylie whispered in that strangely reverent tone.

 

“And so do weird chicks...” Eduardo muttered from the doorway. He had not entered and was looking around the place as though he could sense the magnitude of energy within. Maybe he could, Egon had met a few persons who had an instinctive sensitivity to the supernatural...

 

Seeing they weren’t really touching much he headed around the low gate into Peter’s old office to boot up his computer. His physical copy of Tobin’s was all the way upstairs and he didn’t want to leave four kids and Janine downstairs with all the potential disasters he was currently keeping down there.

 

“What’s this do?” Roland asked, picking up a piece of equipment from the table. Case in point.

 

“That’s what’s known as a Spectral Proto-Capacitator, or what would be known in laymen's terms as-”

 

“A ghost beacon!” Kylie supplied.

 

Well, that was a pleasant surprise. “Correct. By emitting an ultra-sonic frequency it allows the user to summon a ghost.” Marsha was still booting up, and taking her sweet time doing it. He stood to intervene with the equipment before anything happened.

 

Kylie took the beacon, eyes wide with wonder as she pressed the buttons along the bottom. 

 

Egon quickly took it from her hands, pressing the fins closed around the emitter. “Ah...We...Don’t want any accidents...” He held onto the device; the way she had looked at it was not very comforting.

 

“-and you still don’t have a vacuum.” Janine voiced her disapproval, tossing a dust coated book down onto a pile on her old desk with a cough. 

 

All of those were her books, really. She had left them behind, in that spot, where they had sat untouched for the past five years. He hadn’t had the heart to move them. Before they were so dusty as to obscure the titles - Pride and Prejudice, The Great Gatsby, and North and South, mostly classic or historic romances from what he had gathered - it was as if she might return for them. 

 

She turned on the rabbit eared black-and-white television that still sat on her desk, shooting a disapproving look at Slimer as a splat of ectoplasm landed on the screen. Egon allowed himself a satisfied glance at the disturbed novels before focusing on the grainy screen.

 

“-kers claim to have seen something supernatural, or they may have inhaled too many exhaust fumes,” Judy Lee, the reporter, winked at the screen. “It looks like the new tunnel will be dedicated on time tomorrow night. Back to you Tom.”

 

“What do you wanna bet...?” Garrett glanced over at Egon.

 

Egon snapped his fingers. “That’s it. The workers must have opened an ecto-triangulation breech -”

 

Kylie chimed in, eye bright. “A gateway to a ghostly dimension!”

 

Another pleasant surprise. The girl was quick, that was for sure. “You...Do know your Spengler, don’t you?” he commented, feeling a tad self conscious. He smiled reflexively.

 

“I’ve read your book cover to cover six times,” she grinned, not catching his embarrassment.

 

Eduardo muttered something under his breath behind them that Egon didn’t quite catch. 

“I have to get down to that tunnel, take some readings...” he muttered, staring down at the PKE meter. He had no fondness whatsoever for the way it was spiking, as though there was a slow leak in the containment unit. Like a deep wound the less it was tended to the more it would bleed, and he feared what might come through if it continued.

 

A hand on his elbow startled him out of his reverie. “-always gives you nosebleeds,” Janine was saying sternly. 

 

Even in this situation he had to actually try to ignore the slightly ill feeling he had in his stomach. He swallowed thickly, staring down at her with a frown. Surely she could understand this could be potentially dangerous. “Oh, uh...Class dismissed.” Again. 

 

“What? Can’t we come along?” Kylie implored, crushed.

 

“Yeah, what about us?” Garrett huffed.

 

“I can drive you!” Roland offered. 

 

A ride would be welcome, but these were just kids. They had no idea what they were getting into, none at all.

 

“No,” he said firmly, turning away and heading out the door in hopes they would catch the hint. “See you Monday at 5:30.”

 

“Egon, wait! Hey, lock up on your way out!” Janine yelled, pointing back at the kids as she caught up to his much longer strides.

 

Egon tried to ignore the stress this was putting on his mildly arthritic knee for about a block before he gave up and slowed to a more sedate pace. 

 

“We could have gotten there faster with a ride, you know.” Janine slipped a hand through the crook of his elbow, binding him to her pace. He forced himself to resist reacting overtly.

 

“And they would be more at risk, you know that as well as I do,” he grimaced, glaring at the sky. It was going to rain tonight, no doubt. Spengler luck, wasn’t that what Peter would have called this?

 

“Don’t they get a choice in that?” she asked softly, eyes on the sidewalk. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, gulping again and praying she didn’t see the guilt he was so sure was written all across his face.

 

“Well...You know how dangerous this line of work is,” he stuttered.

 

“To snoop around a subway tunnel?”

 

“The last time I ‘snooped around’ a subway tunnel we were pulled into a river of slime and almost killed each other. That was after we almost drowned. Slime is also most unpleasant to remove from your hair, as you well know, much less electromagnatheric slime under the will of a long dead madman. Shortly thereafter we were arrested and then placed in an insane asylum. Those records are difficult to expunge-”

 

“Okay, okay! Point taken,” she admitted with an air of mild irritation, releasing his elbow for a moment to hold up her hands in a complacent gesture. That done, her hand returned to its prior location. He swallowed again and trained his eyes on the meter.

 

After a moment he cleared his throat. “You should go home as well, really, I can handle this...” he said softly. He would feel much more at ease if she was well out of harms way.

 

“Oh, shut up.”

 

Alas. He shut up.

 

\---

 

The trip to the tunnel, coincidentally using the subways as their means to get there, turned out to be nearly pointless. With the amount of police, firemen, and hazardous waste handlers investigating the site they were blockaded from entering far from where he needed to be in order to get any conclusive readings. At best he could tell that there was indeed a rip, but precisely where underground was another matter entirely, not to mention the best method to seal it. He would need to see what they were dealing with in order to formulate the appropriate response.

 

Thankfully Janine had the fortune to find one of the hazardous waste van unattended and was able to sneak two Hazmat suits from it. They slipped in with another yellow-suited group and were able to get just close enough to get what information he required to determine the location and rough size of the issue. They had snuck out again, thankfully unnoticed, and discarded their borrowed goods near the entrance to the tunnel. Really he would have gone further down the tunnel had he not been accompanied by Janine, but with her additional presence he felt it wise to err on the side of caution.

 

Egon found himself very glad that they had not been arrested, if that was any consolation to the fact he could not immediately act upon his findings. Not that it would have been his first time, but being in the lockup was always unpleasant. He also suspected Janine had far less experience in that area than he did and would rather it have remained that way.

 

He grudgingly accepted her offered tissue as they headed back above ground. Predictably, the thin capillaries in his nostrils had split minutely thanks to the combination of September’s cooling dry air and his common dosage of aspirin working as a blood thinner. He dabbed at the offending fluid and then pressed his thumb to the side of his nose. No time to stop and let it clot, there was work to be done.

 

Now remained the issue of making sure the gateway could be sealed at all, which would involve the immediate cessation of all construction activities in that area until a thorough examination and seal could be placed. Considering the construction had disrupted said seal it was likely physical, which was common. Location pointed to possible Native American origins, unless it had been sealed somewhere in the 1600’s or so, which would make properly repairing the means by which it was barricaded more difficult and potentially impossible if it could not be identified...

 

As soon as they reached the Firehouse, the door of which was hastily shut, he felt as though the weight of the world had just dropped onto his shoulders. 

 

Cessation of construction? Yeah, right. Mayor McShane was not the type of man who would believe a word he had to say. Still, he had to try...And so he picked up the phone, and between himself and Janine they spent the following two hours trying to reach the mayor. It was a frustrating waste of time and eventually, once Janine reluctantly agreed to go home on his solemn word that he would not go back to the tunnel, he found himself sequestered in his laboratory pouring over any books that might lead to clues about what sort of leylines and potential weak points could have possibly been linked to that area.

 

Of course, every hour he spent looking meant that much more could have escaped. He read until the pages blurred and shifted. The last he was aware of was the sounds of the early morning dump trucks outside and the rose hue outside the window.

 

He woke with a jerk and a wordless yell when a hand fell on his shoulder. 

 

“Hey,” Janine said softly from behind him. He stiffened, feeling every muscle he had just abused by sleeping upright in an old office chair protest.

 

“Janine,” he stated, carefully. “I thought you went home.”

 

“I did, it’s almost 2 in the afternoon.”

 

That explained the gnawing feeling he felt in his stomach. He groaned inwardly, but not otherwise express his irritation that he had slept that long. He pawed around for his glasses - they must have slipped off as he rested - and found them placed into his palm. He grunted his thanks and stood, stretching.

 

“I figured you would want to go to the dedication, thought I might offer you a ride there instead of taking the subway,” she continued. 

 

Not an offer he could turn down, really. So he followed her out to her car, glaring at his still broken door on his way out. At the very least no one in the area would bother trying to go in; Slimer being present had thwarted enough would-be robbers to prevent it ever happening again. 

 

He noted that the pink VW Beetle Janine was unlocking was the very same car she had driven for several years. Clambering into the passenger seat he remembered why he had not appreciated the car very much. His knees tapped against the dash as they rode away, leaving him feeling more than mildly ridiculous and cramped. If they were in an automobile accident he would surely perish.

 

Thankfully Janine had the presence of mind not to drive as though they were en route to a funeral.

 

Hopefully not, anyway.

 

They arrived in good time, just as the mayor was beginning his speech, garnering more voters by adding this last minute additional transportation. 

 

“I was right,” he hissed to Janine, holding his meter aloft to try and avoid the interference of dozens of bodies crammed in a small space. Janine, who was trailing in his wake, wordlessly pressed a tissue into his hand and he grimaced, holding it beneath his nostrils to stave the likely blood flow. 

 

“This place is brimming with paranormal activi-” he stopped short of clunking the hard edge of the meter into a startled reporter’s face. “Excuse me...pardon me...” he murmured, slipping through them, able to see over their heads with relative ease. Being taller than average had its advantages on occasion.

 

He slipped through the crowd with relative ease, reaching the stairs just as the mayor lofted a bottle of champagne to smash against a model subway, dedicating the future tunnel in his name. He halted in place, scowling at the former ghostbuster. 

 

“What in blazes is going on here?” the mayor growled, staring pointedly at the PKE meter.

 

Egon shoved his glasses back up, barely noticing he had lost his tissue somewhere along the way. “Mr Mayor! You must shut down this tunnel, it could be a disas-”

 

Abruptly microphones were thrust uncomfortably close to his face, forcing him backwards up the stairs. “- Disastrous! It’s opened an interdimensional rift, a gateway to the spirit world, who knows what’s already gotten out!”

 

The reporters looked at each other with the blank eyes of sheep ready for slaughter. Most of the city was like this; many too young to remember, more that didn’t believe because they had not seen it themselves. More than that thought it was a hoax, a publicity stunt. Debunking disbelief and doubt never ceased to be his Sisyphean task in life.

“Calm down everyone!” the mayor placated. “For those of you who are too young to remember, this is the illustrious Egon Spengler.”

 

Egon hazarded a smile. Perhaps he had misjudged McShane.

 

“A charter member of those psychotic vigilantes known as the Ghostbusters!” the mayor continued. Egon’s smile slid off his face. “Back in the 80s they thought they could pull a fast one on this city, causing massive property damage and claiming it was all ghosts! But fortunately, they were shut down.”

 

Egon opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the mayor’s snarling visage. “Looks like old habits die hard.” 

 

“But that’s totally untrue!” Egon protested. “We shut ourselves down because there weren’t any ghosts left to-”

 

“Exactly. There. Weren’t. Any. Ghosts,” McShane’s tone was laced with acid. A chorus of laughter echoed through the tunnel, from reporters too young or too blind to accept that not everything intangible could be fantasy.

 

The mayor sneered at him. “Now if you’ll come this way, ladies and gentlemen, let me show you something real. Security, handle this mess, will you?”

 

“Wait, Mr Mayor! You’ve got to fill in this tunnel!” Egon yelled, backing up to the backdrop, away from the approaching security detail. “The public needs to know!”

 

“Know what? That you’re an insane has-been? Everyone has seen the records, Doctor Spengler,” McShane countered over his shoulder.

 

Egon winced.

 

“Hey! Where does the mayor get off violating doctor-patient confidentiality and commiting defamation of character!” Janine was standing near the stage now, having shoved her way through the last of the reporters. 

 

“It isn’t defamation if it’s true, and it isn’t confidential if everyone knows.” At least McShane looked slightly nervous. “Get them out of here!”

 

“I asked you a question!” Janine snarled, glaring at the security guards that were trying to corner her. Her eyes flashed with fury. Even they looked taken aback. “Just where do you get off! Is this how the mayor treats the public?”

 

McShane stared at her for a moment, glanced at the security guards, and hurried away down the tunnel, flanked by his staff. Several of the reporters glanced back at them, hurriedly writing notes. McShane wouldn’t come away unscathed by this.

 

“Get back here!” Janine yelled. A security guard moved to grab her, but Egon hurried across the stage and dropped down behind her. His knee protested, but he kept his balance, holding up his hands.

 

“Wait! Wait, we’ll go peacefully.”

 

“Like hell!” Janine rounded on him. “You’re just going to let him get away with humiliating you?”

 

Egon gripped her shoulders, bending at the waist to look her in the eyes and speaking low and calm, hoping to sooth her. “If the mayor won’t help I will just take care of it myself. We have other things to worry about and I’d rather not think about them in a jail cell.” Much less with an angry Janine, the woman could be like a caged tiger. As much as he cared for her, being around her in a confined space when she was angry was the last thing he wanted to do. 

 

Mostly because it might just be the last thing he would ever do. She was terrifying.

 

“Hey, just let them go. I’ll take them up,” offered one of the guards, waving off his compatriots. 

 

“Right,” Egon said shortly, turning Janine around and pushing her ahead of himself up the stairs despite her protests. He would not hear the end of this, but it got them out of a potentially volatile situation.

 

“Hey, uh...” the guard put a hand on his shoulder halfway up, pausing their progress. 

 

“For what it’s worth...I believe you.” The young man smiled. “It’s good to see you again, Doctor Spengler.” Egon glanced down, noting the name tag on the man’s shirt. L. Meredith. It seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place it to this person’s face.

 

Egon blinked, letting Janine go for a moment in his distraction. She rounded to launch into an argument about why they should repay the mayor in kind when the guard abruptly clasped Egon in a bear hug. She was apparently shocked into silence.

 

“Uh...” Egon articulated, not much better off. He was released just as quickly as he was seized, his ribs sore.

 

“You saved my brother and me, and I can never thank you guys enough for that. But this is about all I can do for you, so get out of here before the other guys change their minds.” Meredith looked back down the stairs. “Go on, hurry.”

 

Egon blinked, but Janine grasped his wrist and led him back to her car. Her earlier blind fury dissolved by the time they arrived, but she was by no means less angry with the mayor.

 

Her driving was testament to that. Egon willed himself to simply go limp; should they meet with a collision perhaps being limp would potentially save his life. It proved more difficult than expected.

 

“Lousy good for nothing politicians think they have to prove they’re better than everyone by being so damned smug and arrogant...” she muttered as she drove. “Hey! Get your own lane, this ones mine!”

 

Egon sank further into his seat, glad she was no longer speaking directly to him.

 

\---

 

The Firehouse was a welcome solace. As disorganized as it was, it was still home with all the associated amenities. The steady beeping, the soothing hum of the containment unit, the lingering odor of electrical fire that had never really left the aging building...The sound of angry stomping on high heels behind him as he gathered his gear.

 

“Janine. I have to do this, you know that. No one else will,” he stated calmly, rifling through his closet in search of a flight suit that was not in tatters. When had so many of his uniforms gotten destroyed?

 

“That’s what I’m trying to say! I’m going too.” Janine crossed her arms, staring at him from the doorway. 

 

He glanced up and took in how the light of the hall framed her pleasing symmetry perfectly. Then he returned to his task, kneeling to pull out an unopened UPS box. Good, these would have been the last uniforms they had ordered. “I can’t let you do that, for one there are dozens of forms you would need to fill before I could allow you to handle a proton gun.”

 

“Bullshit, and you know it. I’m going.” Her arm appeared over his shoulder and snatched a flight suit off the hangar. She was away before he could mention that the one in her hands had a huge hole in the armpit he had once intended to mend. She would figure it out regardless, and it was uselessly frustrating to try and talk her out of it.

 

He sighed, shaking out a wrinkled uniform. Most of this box was in his colors. Small comforts.

 

Half an hour later he wondered when he had ever been so skinny as to fit into such a garment. He had managed it, but not with as much ease as he had hoped for. He grumbled under his breath as he tied his shoes. 

 

Janine reappeared in the doorway, barefoot and biting her lip a little sheepishly. His old uniform was draped over an arm. “Um.”

 

“The undamaged ones are in the box. I think Peter left a pair of boots under his bed,” Egon supplied, surrendering the fight. It would have broken the First Rule to go alone, as much as he disliked dragging her into his battles.

 

She made a noise of thanks, pulled a fresh suit from the box, fished said boots out from under Peter’s bed, and disappeared into the hallway again.

 

Egon buried his face in his hands with a soft groan as soon as she was out of sight. A splat near his ear announced Slimer’s presence. “What am I going to do with that woman, Slimer?” he muttered through his fingers, dragging them down the sides of his face.

 

Slimer’s incomprehensible answer was not the greatest of help. Nor was the cold, wet pat on the head he gave before floating through the floor to presumably get the proton packs like he had been asked.

 

“Well, at least a shower’s inevitable,” Egon sighed, running a hand through his now-plastered hair. “Yech.”

 

“Yech is right, these boots still smell like Peter’s feet.” Janine reappeared. He gave her a somewhat forced smile, still annoyed with her pressuring as much as he appreciated her company. 

 

She looked so small with the sleeves rolled up and the cuffs tucked into boots that were a bit large on her. It was endearing on her, where it would simply look ridiculous on anyone else. Taking her into the field was daunting to think of.

 

“Alright, let’s go,” she stating, sliding down the pole with a practiced ease that he had forgotten she possessed. He watched her go with only a little less apprehension before joining her.

 

Ecto-1 wouldn’t start up, of course, having been sitting in the same spot for so long. Janine didn’t even scold him for letting the battery run down, having been witness to his skills behind the wheel which were embarrassingly well known to his long time companions.

 

So it was that they once again took her VW Beetle and he once again had his knees cramped up somewhere around his shoulders. At the very least it allowed him to concentrate on the PKE meter and call out directions. If they couldn’t treat the cause they could at least treat the symptoms, and from the readings it looked to be a rather large one they were tailing.

 

“Stop here, it’s in the area,” he looked out the side window when suddenly a snake like head appeared beyond the windshield, watching them both. He stared, stricken as he reached blindly into the back seat for his pack. Janine honked the horn and revved the engine, startling the head enough for it to retreat.

 

“After it!” she called, hauling her own pack over the seat with strength and caught him off guard, opening the door and giving pursuit before he could even slide his pack into the front and get it on his back. 

 

Why had he made these things so heavy? Oh, yeah, nuclear accelerator.

 

He caught up to her at the junction of an alley, nearly out of breath. She brandished her neutrona wand expertly, eyes on the rooftops. He hadn’t forgotten the brazen way she had faced down demons, and his admiration of such bravery returned full force.

 

“It’s gone somewhere nearby, the meter is still reacting. We should try to corner it, lure it into an open area for entrapment.”

 

“Shoot, the trap is still in the car!” Janine thumped the heel of her palm to her forehead.

 

Crumbs. “Go back and get it, I’ll wait here. Hopefully we can pick up the trail easily.” Egon looked back to the meter, the dial slowly ticking lower on the scale. Whatever they were chasing was good at covering its tracks, physical or ethereal. The thought of something being able to predict pursuit on the ethereal scale forged an uncomfortable knot in his stomach.

 

He watched Janine go, trying to keep her in sight as well as keeping an eye on the trail. He was so intent he did not even notice the attack until it was too late, his yell smothered by something fleshy and writhing.

 

He squirmed and felt himself lifted off his feet, then dropped abruptly. The air whooshed out of his lungs as 40 pounds of proton pack landed on his back, stunning him. His ears rang, but he could hear two feminine voices in what sounded to be an argument. Oh please, don’t let Janine come back now...

 

Damp concrete scraped against his face as he tried to move, but the weight of pack made it more difficult for him to catch his breath. A hand covered the side of his face that was not pressed against the asphalt and he relaxed momentarily. Janine had probably driven it away.

 

Then came a burning agony, searing from soft fingertips into his flesh like so many hot pokers. He made a strangled noise in his throat and his fists reflexively clenched, unable to do much else. Stars burst in his eyes and he shut them against the glaring brightness.

 

Light seeped past his eyelids too, and suddenly the agony was gone, leaving a dull ache all along the right side of his face.

 

“Egon! Egon, are you alright?” Janine’s voice.

 

He felt himself shoved onto his side and took a gasping breath of unrestricted air. 

 

“Egon!” Arms wrapped around him awkwardly, threatening what little breath he could catch. “Are you hurt? What was that thing?”

 

Whatever it was, it probably wanted another piece of him and she couldn’t be around when that happened. 

 

“‘M...Alright...Just got...the breath...knocked out...” he wheezed, forcing himself to sit up and turning the right side of his face away from her. It was dark, maybe she wouldn’t notice.

 

“As long as you’re alright...” she sounded uneasy. 

 

“I...think that’s enough...for tonight,” he shot her a crooked smile. Ow. Oh that hurt. “Regroup and research it tomorrow, after class. Can you...drop me off?”

 

“Well, alright...” She conceded, helping him to his feet. 

 

The ride back home was exceptionally difficult, mostly due to the fact his face itched and burned, and the lights all around were assaulting his eyes. He kept his hands firmly in his lap, allowing for no hint of his condition.

 

Once there he quickly said his goodbyes, exited the vehicle, and entered the Firehouse hoping she would just leave.

 

“Egon...? You’re acting strange.”

 

Of course she wouldn’t, the woman was too perceptive and too good to just up and leave.

 

“I’m alright, I just have a migraine...I’d like to just lie down for a while. I’ll see you in class tomorrow,” he murmured. Even his own voice was making his ears ache.

 

“I could help you, get the packs put away...”

 

“Janine, just go!” He hadn’t meant to be that harsh. He couldn’t bring himself to turn and see the hurt on her face, not until long after he heard the soft closure of the door signalling that she had left him for the safety of her home.

 

Maybe this time that door shutting would be permanent.


	3. You, Me, and the Bourgeoisie

The next day Janine came to class feeling more than a little fed up with the doctor. Genius or not, he could still show such difficulty in defending himself. She found that particular quirk of his annoying to deal with; he had a strong tendency to stop to analyse the facts behind an argument and often was left behind by the time said argument was done and over with.

 

What bothered her more was his tone of voice when dismissing her last night. At the time she had felt too hurt by it to do much more than simply leave, but now that she had time to think on it the hurried way he had behaved was more worrisome. 

 

Egon almost never lost his temper about anything unless something was drastically wrong. It just wasn’t his way.

 

The fact that he wasn’t already present and waiting for his class by the time she arrived five minutes late confirmed her suspicion that something had gone wrong last night and she simply had not seen it.

 

“Oh dear,” she said with an exhale. “Egon hasn’t shown up yet, has he?”

 

“No, haven’t seen him,” Roland supplied, blinking at her.

 

“Maybe he’s dead...” muttered Eduardo under his breath.

 

Janine artfully ignored him. “It’s just that we went out ghostbusting last night and I think something might have happened while we were out...”

 

“That old geezer? He could bust a gut!” Garrett laughed.

 

“That old geezer has saved this city I don’t know how many times!” Janine lost her cool in an instant, squaring her shoulders and marching up to him. 

 

“Whoa, bite my head off...” Garrett frowned up at her.

 

“Oh forget it, I’m going to go see if he’s alright,” she waved a hand at them. Who needed them anyway.

 

“Hey, wait up, I’ll give you a ride!” Roland caught up to her just outside the doorway. 

 

“If he’s in trouble...maybe we can help?” Garrett suggested, trailing on his heels. Eduardo must have figured he had nothing to lose because he was shuffling along behind them with his hands stuffed into his jean pockets.

 

Janine briefly considered turning them away, but then thought better of it. If Egon was possibly possessed she could send one of them to call the guys while she dealt with it as best she could. Yes, having more hands would help at least, even if they had no idea what they were doing.

 

“Alright, but I want you to hang onto this.” She fished her address book out of her purse and pressed it into Garrett’s hands. “If I tell you to get out of there you listen to me without question, got it? And you go call one of the guys to come in and help. Venkman, Stantz, or Zeddemore; they’re all in there.”

 

“Got it, now let’s get this show on the road!” Garrett saluted her, whipping past them towards the parking lot where he knew Roland was parked.

 

Almost an hour later they arrived at the Firehouse. Janine had bitten her tongue more than once trying to resist asking Roland to speed it up. I knew I shouldn’t have taken to subway today...

 

Once they were parked she hurried ahead of the other three, pausing before the door to mentally prepare herself for what might potentially be inside. She took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Slimer came to meet her, obviously upset.

 

His hands twisted together, spattering ecto on the floor below him with every wringing motion. He made a distressed sound she couldn’t determine the exact meaning of and looked over his shoulder nervously.

 

“Slimer, what is it?” she asked softly, looking around the dim garage in apprehension. “Where’s Egon?”

 

Slimer made a soft wailing noise and looked over his shoulder, towards the office.

 

She glanced over her shoulder at the kids, who had by now joined her. “Alright, listen, I’m going in first and we’re going to check the place out. Eduardo, Roland, I need you to stay right on me and do what I tell you to do. Garrett...”

 

“Yeah, I know, go call if somethings up,” Garrett sounded bored by the very idea.

 

Janine chose not to respond and entered cautiously, creeping around Ecto-1 and pushing open the door of one of the lockers, hefting out one of the packs and slinging it over her shoulders. Her shoulders still ached from last night’s excursion. Despite all her racquetball and gym visits she still wasn’t used to running around with roughly forty pounds of nuclear accelerator strapped to her back. 

 

She pulled out a meter from the shelf above, but grimaced when she saw that the back had been ripped out of it and just put it back where she found it. Slimer hovered overhead, seemingly confused by her actions. He touched her shoulder lightly, just enough to leave a small trace of ecto and get her attention, pointing over his shoulder and babbling again.

 

“Egon?” Janine called, gripping the proton gun. She didn’t turn it on, but had her thumb poised to do so if need be.

 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, that one had an overheating problem...Can you shut the door please?” His voice drifted towards them.

 

He sounded tired, but not possessed. She relaxed a little and headed for the low railing, stopping just short of it. No sense in being too comfortable just yet, she’d been fooled before.

 

“Oh Egon, when you didn’t come to class I was worried something might have happened to you, thank goodness you’re alright,” the words tumbled from her mouth like water while her eyes searched the back of his head for anything unusual.

 

“I’m not,” he said in that same tired monotone, turning in his chair and squinting against even the soft light from the doorway. 

 

Janine swallowed a gasp and put a hand up to her lips reflexively.

 

His face was liberally covered in a scaly green texture peppered with pus-filled boils which seemed to pulse with his heartbeat. He looked terrible. “I’ve analysed the boils, they seem to be a result of a cross dimensional dermal transmogrification...”

 

“Say what?” Eduardo seemed entirely grossed out by the sight of him. He backed away several steps.

 

“I think he means ghost zits,” Garrett supplied. 

 

“That’s...one way of putting it. There’s a disease provoking entity out there, you should all stay indoors at all costs.” Egon slumped against the rail in a worrisome way. Janine scowled, holstering the proton gun and hefting the pack onto her desk to free her arms.

 

“Janine, hand me the spectral proto-capacitator...”

 

She stared at him for a moment, completely at a loss with that one. Apparently teaching undergrads for the past several years had not informed him of the need to explain things in laymen’s terms.

 

“The ghost beacon,” he clarified, staring up at her miserably. “I mean to use it to lure the ghost here, and I’d rather you all left beforehand.”

 

“It’s not on my desk anymore,” Janine sighed, looking over said desk once again. She glanced at the workbench it had been on before.

 

“That girl Kylie...The way she was looking at it...” Roland said thoughtfully, helping Janine look.

 

“She wasn’t in class today, either,” Eduardo piped up, having shut the door and lingered there.

 

“You would notice.” Garrett smirked. 

 

“Hey, shut up! There’s only four of us, of course I notice!” Eduardo snapped, crossing his arms sullenly.

 

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Garrett needled with a grin.

 

Eduardo’s retort was cut off by Roland. “I can’t find it anywhere over here.”

 

“Not here either.” Janine swept the dust off her knees from looking beneath her desk.

 

“She was the last to leave...” Garrett trailed off. “Roland offered to give her a ride, but she said she could just catch the subway.”

 

Egon banged a fist on the railing, startling all of them. “She has no idea what she’s doing! Activating the beacon is just inviting trouble! I have to get back out there and undo the damage that’s already been-” The air left his lungs in a whoosh and he collapsed, shivering, into his chair. 

 

Janine shook her head, shoving the gate open and stalking over to him. He squinted up at her in the dim light and seemed a little relieved when she stepped between him and nearest window. Hm. She turned on the desk lamp. He flinched, turning his face away from it as though it had burned him.

 

“Gah!” he hissed, pressing a hand over his eyes.

 

She flicked it off with a snort, having confirmed what she had suspected. He looked much worse up close; covered in sweat with dark circles forming under his eyes. The lights being off wasn’t a lack of energy to turn them on so much as a sensitivity. And he thought he was in any shape to be running around with a live nuke? As if.

 

“Oh no, you’re no good to anyone like that. You’ll kill yourself or someone else trying, and then where would we be?” She pressed the back of her palm to his forehead, ignoring his mumbled protest against it potentially being communicable. Eduardo made a sound of disgust behind her. If she got it she got it; it would hardly be the worst she’d have had to deal with. 

 

“Just look at that, you’re burning up, Egon. Just how long have you been sitting here?” He was still wearing the same clothes from last night, dirt from the asphalt and all. She put her hands on her hips disapprovingly.

 

He turned his head to the three boys. Apparently he gave them a pleading look because Roland shook his head subtly and Garrett just shrugged.

 

“Why don’t you let us handle it?” Roland offered.

 

“Yeah, teach us to be ghostbusters!” Garrett looked thrilled by the idea at least.

 

Eduardo gripped the door handle, tense. “What are you guys, loco? You wanna end up like him?” He pulled the door open. “I’m gonna take in a double feature.”

 

“Fine, go then, we don’t need you!” Garrett snorted. “Better take in that flower show at the convention center though, I hear they’ve got a special on daisies.”

 

Eduardo halted, one foot out the door. He turned, glowering. “You callin’ me a daisy?”

 

“If the shoe fits.”

 

“Alright, I’m in!” Eduardo growled, slamming the door. Which promptly fell off its hinges. Eduardo ducked it with a yell.

 

Hopefully this was not a sign of things to come.

 

“Now wait a minute...We can’t let them do it, they’re just kids. We should call the guys.” Janine bit her lip, looking down at Egon.

 

“Who you callin’ ‘kid’ lady?” Garrett looked affronted.

 

Roland crossed his arms. “I’m 19, not 12.”

 

“I don’t think we have any choice right now, Janine. Time is of the essence, if this keeps spreading...” Egon let the rest hang in the air. 

 

Janine ran a hand through her hair. “Alright, but I’m going too. I know how to use a proton pack and can halfway read a PKE meter.”

 

“Oh, the equipment,” Egon lamented, pressing his palms to his forehead. “It’s in absolute shambles. There are only two proton packs and three traps that are still functional. I can’t send you out like that.”

 

“No sweat; if it’s got an engine, I can fix it, if it’s got wiring, I can reconfigure it,” Roland said brightly, pulling a multi-tool from his jacket pocket.

 

“And if it’s got a nougat center, he can eat it,” Eduardo added, jerking a thumb at Garrett who had just pulled some sort of energy bar from his pocket and was consuming it, much to the distraction of Slimer.

 

“Then let’s get this party started!” Garrett grinned, forgetting to guard his energy bar for the barest moment it took Slimer to permanently confiscate it. He glared up at the spud.

 

Janine glanced back at Egon, who was slouched back in his chair and looked miserable. Not that most people could tell, but she had become so accustomed to his subtle tics to know when he was well and truly out of it. “Alright, we’ll work on Ecto. Egon, if you have a list of parts that need replaced on the packs, give that to us and we can track them down.”

 

“Uh.” He made a move to get up but she cut him off. 

 

“Just tell us where it is. You, on the other hand, are getting upstairs and under some blankets.”

 

“Now, really,” he muttered, scowling. “I’m capable of assisting.”

 

“Do you want me to call your mother? I will call your mother.”

 

“Now that isn’t fair!” he squawked. 

 

Janine just pointed at the stairs.

 

He blew air through his lips in a derisive sound and rolled his eyes. “One of the file cabinets has it in amongst the design sheets, I made notations on each individual pack’s needs.” He paused. “Unless it’s in the lab.”

 

“Okay. Now, get to bed!”

 

“I’ll help you up,” Roland said, crossing into the office and holding out a hand.

 

“I can do it myself,” Egon replied sharply, hauling himself to his feet and brushing past both of them to the stairs, where he took a graceless seat. 

 

Janine rolled her eyes. “You boys take a look at Ecto and the file cabinets - look under P and S first - start making a list. I’ll be right back.”

 

She strolled over to the stairs and helped Egon up by the elbow, letting him get an arm over her shoulders. Between the two of them they managed to make their way upstairs, despite it being very awkward for her due to the fact he had at least a foot in height on her. 

 

There she deposited him on the couch and turned to at least get him a blanket out of his bedroom before heading down to help the kids.

 

“Janine?” 

 

She stopped in her tracks and looked over her shoulder at him. He had put his hand over his eyes again, shielding them from the sunlight coming in through the window. 

 

She crossed and shut the blinds. He sighed out loud in relief.

 

“I apologise, I did not mean to be so short with you last night.” 

 

“That’s the second time you’ve apologised to me since the semester started. Maybe I should be keeping a record.” She let the ghost of a smirk filter through. “It’s alright, I understand. Just trust me a little, alright? I know what I’m doing.”

 

“Yes, well...” he shifted uncomfortably. 

 

She waved him off with a hand, leaving to retrieve a few blankets from his bedroom. She folded them over an arm thoughtfully and sighed aloud. “Wish I actually did know what I’m doing.” 

 

Going out in the field to hunt some potentially deadly spook with a trio of neophytes wasn’t her idea of a good time. But - considering Ray was about 28 hours away by car, Winston was further, and Dr V was clear over in Hollywood - there wasn’t any other option aside from letting Egon get himself killed. 

 

Maybe Roland would prove to be as good at repair as he said he was. For all their sakes she hoped he was.


	4. Comprachicos

He glowered out of the darkness at the CB radio. At least with the lights off and the shades drawn there was no brightness inflicting immense pain directly into his corneas. The red light indicating the ‘on’ status of the radio was irritating enough on its own and he was quite sure that his vision was blurring around the edges.

 

Not a good sign by any means. It was quite likely that the ecto-induced virus was spreading quickly and attacking the most basic means of his survival. His feet were swelling, not that anyone else knew that, but it was a hint that his body was failing.

 

Already he was running the figures over and over in the back of his mind. Exponential growth of the disease versus his exponential production of leukocytes. He calculated, recalculated, and recalculated again. He had roughly ten hours left before his facilities were entirely beyond him, not to speak of those infected who might not have been even as healthy as he was.

 

He should have stayed in better shape.

 

Instead he was sitting here, staring helplessly at a glowing red light in the darkness of his home, hoping that Janine and three neophytes came back in one piece. At least if it became imminent that he would pass from one world into another he need not worry about where he was going. He would stay right here, as he always had, bound spiritually in order to guard their greatest achievement and their greatest bane.

 

The radio crackled and startled him out of his reverie. 

 

“Hey, I got a question...Uh...These things aren’t going to cause cancer or nothin’ right?” Eduardo asked.

 

Egon pondered for a moment. “There isn’t any evidence that the use will support, nor negate, the growth of cancerous cells.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Eduardo sounded a little panicked.

 

“It means...” Janine paused, possibly considering how she phrased the end of her response. “Probably not.”

 

A misleading answer, certainly, but no need to give Eduardo a nervous tic if he didn’t really need one.

 

His stomach growled again, the third time in an hour that he was voraciously starving. The periods between the need to eat were getting shorter and shorter, which he took as another negative indication.

 

“Okay, we’re getting stronger readings, so we’re stopping here.” Janine said, and the car engine shut off.

 

“Be careful,” he managed. He glanced up at Slimer and made a vague gesture towards the kitchen. The ghost obediently fetched him something from the refrigerator, carefully holding a plate by the edges so he didn’t drip ectoplasm onto a sandwich. Janine’s doing, no doubt.

 

And so he sat, devouring his prize in tense silence. A rock had formed in the pit of his stomach and stayed there when they had left with two questionably functioning traps and three proton packs between them. Granted that much could get the job done, but he did not trust the equipment as far as he could currently throw it at this point.

 

Nearly everything needing repaired or replaced had been like running into a brick wall. Companies which had manufactured their harder to machine parts no longer produced what was needed, if the companies even still existed at all. Most of his contacts phone numbers came up as out of service or led to someone else entirely. His hands shook too much to hold a soldering iron, and while Roland was adept he was not able to machine the precise parts they needed.

 

Egon frowned at the empty plate. If only Ray was here. More than once over the years of solitude he had mused over how much he depended on the engineer to make his ideas into a reality. He could do the minor repairs, the soldering, the wiring, but Ray worked the mechanical magic.

 

Damnation, damnation, and further damnation.

 

The radio gave an impromptu squeal, breaking the silence, then just as quickly filling it was more. 

 

“-left the trap in the damn car!” Janine’s voice, faint. Someone was shuffling things around near the microphone.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Roland was apologising over and over close by. Somewhere in the distance Eduardo’s screams mingled with an unearthly howl.

 

The shuffling stopped and all he could hear was shouting. Mostly Janine over all the noise. “Throw the trap!...Great!...Stomp on the pedal!....No, don’t cut your stream, keep holding it!”

 

Then there was blessed quiet and Egon felt as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. The boils began to fade, the green scaling of his skin receding slowly, leaving only some minor scaring.

 

Then there was a soft “shit” coming from Janine.

 

Followed by the muted ‘whump’ of an explosion, the sound of glass breaking, and static. 

 

Egon grabbed the mic. “Someone please respond!” The weight had returned, the scaling creeping back down his hand. The creature was free, but that didn’t matter to him at that exact moment.

 

Nothing but static. Slimer made a soft keening sound that was rapidly growing in pitch and volume.

 

He stared at the radio and for a bare second every thought fled his mind beyond the white noise. The equipment. It had to have been the equipment. Over his head Slimer was letting out a full fledged hair raising wail.

 

He had as good as killed them.

 

He tried to calculate their potential survival rate, but without knowing their proximity to whichever device had exploded - he assumed it was an explosion as an implosion would have been more catastrophic and he might have felt the effect by now - it was impossible. The margins were despairingly low; low enough for his heart to turn to lead in his chest.

 

He realized he had been tapping the transmit button repeatedly and futilely.

 

He also realized he could not be safe and secure in the knowledge his spirit would not leave the firehouse should his body cease functions; what the hell had he been thinking? There was a ghost out there killing hundreds as he sat here, unable to remove himself from the situation long enough to care about more than four tragedies. 

 

He rubbed his eyes. There were more pressing concerns, and while it shook him to the core he could not let these tragedies go without answer.

 

He stood and made his way to the lab, calling roughly for Slimer to join him. The ghost followed, still keening like a wounded animal. Egon wished he could join him in the sentiment, but now was not the time.

 

The time for mourning was later...The time for action was now.

 

The virus was a feeder, sapping his resources. He needed to work ahead of it, give it something to feed on aside from his body. That, or poison it until it weakened. Which meant poisoning himself. He closed his eyes for a moment, sinking into his chair. He could poison it for the time being while he worked out how to negate or minimize the effects.

 

“Slimer, get the scotch out of the bottom cabinet in the kitchen.” He sighed. As much as he despised alcohol, he found himself for once grateful that Peter had forgotten one item from his formidable stash. Half a fifth of scotch, wonderful.

 

Slimer delivered, wringing his hands nervously as he set it on the table within Egon’s reach.

 

No glass. Oh well. He unscrewed the cap and grimaced at the smell before taking a swig.

 

He stared at his hand for a moment, categorizing the effects on ingesting what was essentially a recreational toxin on the entity he was playing host to. “Slimer, turn on the hall light please.” The ghost warbled and did as he asked. Slimer was very helpful when he had enough of a mind to be.

 

The boils stopped throbbing at least, his headache was no better, but at the very least he didn’t feel as off balance. He also did not feel hunger pangs. So far, so good. He took another drink before setting the bottle aside and moving to his drafting board. 

 

His tolerance, while lower than Peter’s obviously, was still such that he was able to obtain his objectives while keeping in a lightly inebriated form. His throat and stomach felt pleasantly warm even though he knew it was causing an exothermic reaction.

 

The phone rang downstairs, but there was no phone readily available in his immediate vicinity and he dreaded the news. He ignored it and placed his fists against his temples, thinking hard.

 

The virus was a feeder. Ergo, it required something to feed upon. That much he had covered. Feeding it his body was out of the question. Drowning himself in alcohol was also out of the question despite his current usage. He would either be useless or expire from over-consumption, and neither of those options would save anything.

 

As nothing had saved her.

 

He put the thought out of mind again, burying it where emotions should be buried in favor of function and reason. But God if it wasn’t hard to do. He tapped his pen on the table, staring at his notes. He was no biochemist and while he could have called his uncle he doubted it would do him any good. His skin itched. He turned, grasped the fifth of scotch, and imbibed more of the foul smelling concoction. At least it was numbing him, little by little.

 

A splat of ecto landed by his hand. Slimer was comforting himself with half a chocolate bar. He glared up at his companion. The ghost was really nothing but a stomach, unable to resist even the smallest of impulses...

 

A stomach.

 

He slapped a hand to his forehead, narrowly missing his glasses. Of course, the answer was obvious. He reached into a desk drawer, pulled out a fresh slide, and waved it at Slimer.

 

“Slimer. Treat.”

 

Of course, his hand was engulfed with the slide, but that didn’t matter as much. He pulled his hand gently from the pulsating gullet the spook packed everything away in and slid his chair over to the desk his microscope lay waiting on. Slimer made a disappointed noise. 

 

He flicked his slimed hand impatiently, took another gulp of the scotch, and promptly regretted turning the lamps-sans-dimmer on. He winced away, black spots swimming all over the room. The phone rang again, and he again ignored it.

 

He turned back to the microscope after a moment, turning the dimmer until it was nearly shutting out all the light and placing the slide into its proper place on the stage. He pushed his glasses back and cautiously peered down into it. He was familiar with Slimer’s functions, yes, but review was good. Especially since he had not viewed the cellular behavior in the spud recently.

 

Not much had changed, which was good because it gave him firmer standing. Now he just needed to figure out how to slow or reverse the digestive process. Which was extremely complex in humans, much less in the paranormal world. 

 

He sighed. He had nothing to lose by trying a human means. “Slimer, get the red bottle of cough syrup out of the bathroom cabinet.”

 

About a month ago he had suffered from acute bronchitis bordering on pneumonia, and as luck would have it that came with a prescription for cough syrup containing codeine. It also came with an obscene bill, but that was neither here nor there. Codeine was an opiate, which would slow metabolic rates in humans.

 

He fingered his midsection ruefully. Ectomorphic my widening posterior.

 

Once the bottle was in hand he knew he could not ingest it. While it had not gone past its expiration date and become dangerous he had been consuming alcohol, which would not bode well in the mixing. Instead he pulled out an eyedropper and added a small amount to the slide, observing the progress through the scope. The phone started its irritating ringing once more. He was likely down to 8 hours by now. 

 

His head felt fuzzy and he mumbled out the first thing that came to mind. “Telescopic Tesla coils.” 

 

It was the best he had at the moment. Apparently the cough syrup was working just as an opiate should be expected to work. How unexpected. The digestive motion was slowing where the sticky mess had been introduced.

 

He glanced down at his arm, where the boils were pulsing once more. He took another drink of the scotch and pulled some more of his magical opiates into the eyedropper, then dabbled it on his arm.

 

The pulsing of the boils slowed just enough for him to perceive it. That was one problem halfway solved, or at least mitigated for the time being. Now for the equipment...Why was it becoming so difficult to visualize what to do for them?

 

Footsteps stomped into the room behind him, accompanied by the unmistakable scent of ozone and smoke. “Would it kill you to answer your damn phone?!”

 

He froze, fist clenching reflexively and drenching his arm in cherry flavored syrup. 

 

Janine. Oh God, that was Janine. His stomach did a flip and he felt a sudden wave of nausea that was not entirely to do with his current predicament. 

 

He turned in his chair and gave her a watery smile. “Oh good, you’re alive.”

 

The room tilted sideways momentarily. Why was everything suddenly blurry? His glasses were on.

 

Then he promptly vomited into his trash bin.


	5. Running Up That Hill

“So, mind explaining why you’re drunk and rubbing yourself with cough syrup and slime?” She drawled.

 

“Ugh,” he choked, shuddering over the toilet.

 

“Mm.” She reached into the bathroom to rub his back soothingly. “Very astute. I’m going to give you the benefit of a doubt here and assume it had some reasoning behind it.”

 

“Hgrflgrl.” He gave her a flat stare.

 

“My thoughts exactly.” She backed out of the way so he could stand and brush his teeth.

 

Kylie was fretting just outside the door. “- and I’m really, really sorry I took the ghost beacon, if I’d have known any of this was-”

 

“Nevermind that,” Egon growled. “I’ve slowed the effects for the time being. Someone call the hospitals and inform them that topical application of opiates will help.”

 

Kylie fled to do his bidding in hopes it would get her back on his good side.

 

He leaned on the sink cabinet, shivering. He was soaked through in sweat, his left hand was coated in ecto, and his right arm had spatters of sticky cough syrup over his other skin afflictions. He looked like hell warmed over and Janine felt bad about her sarcasm a moment ago. 

 

“What happened?” He was looking at her now, actually taking her in with increasing concern.

 

Oh, yeah. She put a hand self consciously over the bandaged cut over her brow. It had stopped bleeding a while ago, and it wasn’t bad. “The trap exploded, not sure why...It flattened both of Ecto’s back tires and there was only one spare so...We had to take a couple subways back. I called you from three different payphones to take my car and pick the packs up. Took forever to get back here, we got stopped by a couple cops because we had them with us.”

 

He looked at the clock, then his watch. It had been four hours since they had gone out shortly after sunset and it was now 11 p.m.

 

“Yeah, it really did take that long. What were you doing here?” Janine quirked a brow, crossing her arms.

 

“Time dilation,” he muttered. 

 

Janine just shook her head in response. That didn’t answer very much.

 

“Injuries?” He lowered his voice. He scratched at his non-cough-syrup-coated arm. 

 

“Some bruising, a few cuts. We were able to get Ecto between us and the trap before it went. We’re all okay aside from the car.” Hopefully it wasn’t being stripped as they spoke, it wasn’t exactly parked in a good neighborhood.

 

He exhaled and leaned on the door frame. “Thank goodness, I had thought...” 

 

He shook his head and brushed past her to the lab, where he began coating his ugly spots with cough syrup. It looked strange, smelled strange, and in general was strange, but it did seem to bring him some relief. That much done he went to his drafting board and tore a sheet off the massive ream of paper, setting it aside carelessly. 

 

Janine sighed, watching. 

 

Garrett came up beside her. “So what’s the plan, Sarge?”

 

“You kids are going to get onto the database and look through the photos for anything resembling the entity; I didn’t see it when I was attacked. I am going to double check my figures and make sure the equipment does not fail again.”

 

“We got one better than that, Kylie knows its name.”

 

“Good, then look it up. And send Roland in, he called the companies, correct?” He sat down, shoulders hunched as he began scribbling a series of equations in the margins.

 

“Yeah...” Garrett seemed taken aback by the abrasiveness. 

 

“Then get on it.”

 

Janine cast an apologetic look at Garrett, who just shrugged and rolled away.

 

Egon glanced over his shoulder, his face pinched and pale. “Janine...I dislike asking this, but it is becoming increasingly difficult to focus with you standing there. Can you please go assist the others?”

 

She opened her mouth to say something and thought better of it. “Yeah, no problem.”

 

Janine left him in the dim and headed downstairs to the garage, where most of the kids were gathered around Peter’s old desk. Kylie was leafing through a book with a frustrated expression while Garrett and Roland were trying to use the computer - from their expressions that was going just about as well.

 

Eduardo was seated at her desk with an open phone book in front of him. She raised a brow at him as she passed and he shrugged at her, instructing the person on the other line to hold the anchovies.

 

“Alright, what’ve you got?” she asked, pushing the gate open and stepping into the office.

 

“Whole lotta nothing...None of these are in English.” Kylie scowled at the book in her hands and added it to a pile she had collected off to the side.

 

Roland gestured at the computer. “Password protected. We haven’t been able to figure it out.”

 

Janine sighed and glanced over at Eduardo just as he hung up the phone with a ‘click.’ “Hey, go upstairs and get Egon’s password. And ask him where Tobin’s is.”

 

Eduardo blinked at her and pushed his hands into his pockets as he rose, muttering as he went. In the meantime Janine helped Kylie sort through the books, separating them into piles of “English” and “Egonish.”

 

Eduardo returned a moment later.

 

“Hey, so...” Eduardo held up a note, squinting at it. “You know, here, he said it was case sensitive. Tobin’s is supposed to be in the corner.”

 

Roland sat the note on the keyboard and mumbled as he typed. “B67AcO7637LiSiSc347792 exclamation point...”

 

Kylie went to search for the book while Roland and Garrett commenced to the research finally. Janine glanced at Eduardo and gave him a half smile. “I’ll pitch in for pizza.”

 

He returned the smile. “Nah, it’s okay, I work for the place on weekends so it’s free. Just gotta tip. So what do we do now?”

 

Janine looked over her shoulder. Kylie was nose deep in Tobin’s and the boys were engrossed in the computer.

 

“Do you know how to play Spades?”

 

\---

 

About an hour later, between the five of them, they had turned up only one readily available source on their spook. As far as the computer database went her full name was most likely Achiratima and it meant something like ‘destroyer of civilizations.’ The shortened version meant ‘swift or prompt.’ It had turned up the title of four or five books, but only one they could actually find in the Firehouse.

 

Said book just had to be written in indecipherable pictographs. Egon read it aloud to them, skipping several lines as he did so. Janine only caught it because she was watching him keep his place with his fingers.

 

“This confirms your findings at least. The remaining data is sketchy...I am fairly certain I know how the ‘destroying of civilizations’ is done, but it has no further information on if the disease can spread without a proxy to host her essence.” He set the book down carefully.

 

“The radio’s still saying more people are getting sick,” Eduardo supplied. They had been listening to it in the living room while they played cards. He took a breath to add something and stopped himself, crossing his arms and bouncing on his heels. Janine was sure she knew why he wasn’t saying anything else.

 

“I don’t like the sound of that.” Roland scratched his cheek, staring at the sticky patches on Egon’s face.

 

“Neither do I.” Egon looked away from them, towards the floor. It was hard to tell exactly with it kept as dim as it was.

 

Janine bit her lip. “Alright, so we just have to track her down and trap her, and everything should be back to normal, right?”

 

Egon shrugged. “That’s not always the case. I find myself at a loss on whether or not it would work that way. Ideally, yes, but ideals are not always the reality.”

 

“Well, lets get back out there and try at least!” Garrett shouted. “No pain, no gain!”

 

“Do you think this is a game?” Egon stared at the red head with an unreadable expression.

 

“Naw, not a game, but we better win regardless, right?” Garrett scratched the back of his neck.

 

“Right...” Egon sighed, resting his elbows on his knees. “Alright, I need you to get the remaining traps. We’re going to give them an overhaul and be absolutely certain they are in working order if we have to cobble them together. Get the packs too, we must have missed something with the first trap.”

 

Janine chewed the inside of her cheek, knowing he probably blamed himself. Normal people could make mistakes, Egon couldn’t. She lingered after the kids had gone downstairs to get the equipment from where they had stashed it. 

 

“So, the radio said there had been fatalities from this...”

 

He winced as though struck and took his glasses off to rest his head in his hands. “Damnation,” he whispered.

 

“When were you going to tell us it’s potentially fatal?”

 

“It would just have distracted you.”

 

“Sure, but its still a factor.” She lowered her voice. “You’re dying, aren’t you?”

 

“That’s irrelevant.” He glared at her. “You five have more important things to worry about.”

 

“Alright,” she said softly. “Just know that I‘ll be here if you need me for anything.”

 

“...I could use a cup of coffee?” he asked with a weak smile.

 

“Sure thing, boss.” She forced his lips to curl upwards in a return smile and quickly left for the sanctuary of the kitchen. She couldn’t let him see the size of the lump in her throat or just how pale she was certain she had become. 

 

The kitchen was a horrific mess. She dug through cabinets, upturning a petri dish here and an inexplicable remote control there. Eventually she dug out enough coffee grounds and a filter to make a couple cups. Hell, everyone needed it anyway, they’d been going all day and she knew she was running on fumes at this point.

 

Sleep was not a luxury they were afforded right now.

 

The kids passed by with the packs and the traps. She opened the coffee maker and suppressed a gag at the old grounds. Cleaning it was quick business, but it still took time and now even time was a luxury for a whole lot of people. Her cheeks felt damp for some reason. 

 

She turned the maker on, turned the light off, then sat in the dark for a moment while her eyes adjusted and damn it everything was so blurry and her chest felt tight like she was suffocating and she knew she had no one to blame for this but a spook they might or might not be able to catch with the equipment like it was...

 

She grabbed the coffee can off the counter and raised it over her head to spike it on the ground, then stopped herself. Don’t go overboard here, Janine old girl, just get through this.

 

She took a deep breath, schooling herself into a less frantic state of mind, and sat the canister back on the counter. The maker purred and the coffee filtered into the carafe. She spent fifteen minutes waiting for it to finish and another ten pouring everyone a cup, then putting them onto a tray she unearthed. It gave her just enough time to compose herself like she should have been all along. 

 

After all, everyone was depending on her to lead the charge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Mind explaining why you're drunk and rubbing yourself with cough syrup and slime?" will remain one of my favorite lines I have ever written.


	6. Winter In My Heart

Egon rubbed his eyes in irritation, trying to make the equations he had scrawled on the margins of his drafting paper clear again. For the fifth time in approximately the last five minutes he tried in vain to clean his glasses in an effort to stop the world from spiraling out of focus. His eyes threatened to close of their own accord, but he just could not afford that. Even if it had been over 24 hours since he had last slept.

 

“Dr Spengler, are you alright?” Roland asked quietly from the table on the other side of the lab. Light pooled around his hands, illuminating the thrower he was checking the wiring on. It hurt to look at and the light had a halo so large he couldn’t actually see Roland.

 

“I’m fine,” Egon muttered, turning back to his equations. He felt disconnected and it was hard to remember why he was even doing the math anyway. 

 

Heels clacked on the floor, heralding Janine’s entry. He recalled the hastily bandaged cut on her forehead and knew why he was running the numbers again. The trap had a major malfunction, and without the physical remnants to examine he would have to run a probability on it and try to narrow down the potential failure points, and then examine the other traps for such said failure points.

 

Tedious, tiresome work. The smell of coffee near his elbow roused him. He had not even been aware he had closed his eyes.

 

He noted that a hand was still attached to it and followed the arm up to Janine’s face. Her eyes were a tad puffy. Had she caught something? He wasn’t contagious; at least he was reasonably sure he wasn’t. 98.6% sure. Surely she was not infected by Achira as well. That would be...horrible.

 

She must have caught his growing concern because she bit her lip and shook her head slightly, shifting her eyes to look over her shoulder.

 

She didn’t want the kids to know.

He tensed, grabbing her wrist before she could turn away, and made a frantic gesture at his own face. This was serious, he had to know.

 

She shook her head again, holding up her free hand in a complacent gesture. No, that wasn’t the problem.

 

He let the air leave his lungs in relief and let her wrist go, patting it lightly in apology for gripping too hard.

 

She turned and left, gifting him the faintest of sad smiles before fleeing for the hallway.

 

He watched her retreating back before looking back at the coffee, still hot enough to steam subtly.

 

If only...

 

He took his glasses off and set them on the tablet. He needed to stop staring at the numbers for a moment - just a moment - to collect himself. The idea that Janine, or any of his students, might die from this same consuming disease was frightening at best. The air swam in front of his eyes.

 

If only...

 

If only the equipment was still in functional condition. If only that subway had not been built. If only they had not been forced to close. If only he had not driven her out of his life all those years ago. 

 

If only he had more time to fix his mistakes, his transgressions against everyone he cared about.

 

If only he could have just one of those things, he might have led a better life.

 

But of course, nothing was ever so simple as ‘what if’ scenarios laid them out to be. He ran his hands through his hair, feeling the sweat plastering it to his scalp and neck. It was impossible. He was running out of time and he could not save them.

 

“Dr Spengler? Sir?” Roland’s hand touched his shoulder tentatively.

 

When he looked up Roland’s face was clear in a sea of vague shapes, covered in throbbing boils. They were dying. All of them were dying, and he could do nothing to stop it. 

 

\---

 

He wasn’t entirely sure of when he had blacked out, but it must have been so because he had mysteriously been transported to the couch. He fumbled around for his glasses blindly and found them, the frames bent and badly reshaped. He allowed himself the briefest of moments to congratulate himself for getting plastic lenses and wire frames for easier repair before readjusting them and putting them on. A few new scratches lingered on the edge of his vision, but they were easy enough to ignore now that he saw a note that had been left on the table.

 

It was unmistakeably Janine’s tidy script, but written in a hurried fashion.

 

E,

 

Got equipment checked, figured you needed the rest. Have gone to bust Achira, back before you know it.

 

We’ll be careful, don’t worry.

 

\- J.

 

Egon flipped the note over to check the backside for additional details.

 

Stop worrying.

 

Damn the woman for knowing him too well. If things had gone differently, he might have married her someday. No, he amended, he would have. He would have married her and given her everything and anything she wanted of him. But, like ‘what if’ scenarios, ‘would haves’ were just as idealistic and unrealistic. Selfish even.

 

By God he was sick to death of being realistic, but someone had to be. Not that it meant that it did not still hurt like an open wound. His eyes felt damp and watery, but he shrugged off the feeling. There was no room nor time for such things as feeling sorry for himself. He had chosen this. Above all else, all the ‘might haves’ and ‘would haves’, he had chosen to live this way. For the good of everyone.

 

He checked his watch for the time and cast around for a clock to confirm. Two hours. Two whole hours he had been lying here uselessly asleep. He stood and stalked back to the lab, ice creeping down his spine. He had not finished the probability equations, which meant that the checking of the traps may have wasted precious time, if it had been done properly at all. 

 

If the traps did not work, it would be his fault. Hopefully they would exercise caution in their entrapment procedures. If they did not, well, it did not bear dwelling on...

 

He suppressed a shudder. It was not that he personally feared death as a concept; in theory it was just the passing of life from one form to another. He felt oddly...ambivalent about the idea as a whole. He understood that death was frightening to most. He had been afraid of dying, violently afraid, but not of death. They were two entirely separate pictures in his mind. Death was the cessation of physical existence, dying was the process by which it occurred. Which may or may not be violent and painful.

 

The fact that he would linger in this place after said physical cessation was a boon and a bane. His soul was bound to this location so that, even if he were to be on another plane, he would still be linked to the firehouse as a permanent guardian over the containment unit. For a long time he had toyed with the concept of actually banishing spirits to other planes, but it had not panned out in the long run. 

 

Binding was possible, so long as a focal source could be found, but the magic was complicated and tricky at best. He brought a hand self consciously to his eyes and bumped his glasses back up his nose. Someday, before a natural death, he would likely be blind. At least he might not have to go through that at this rate.

 

Really, the worst of his problems was the leaving behind. He could not accept death with open arms with so much left to do. Had there been no one who needed him, it would have been that much easier to just cross over. But right here, in the moment, he was needed and entirely useless for what he was needed for.

 

He sat down in his chair, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling. He itched at his arm, where the curse was spreading to his hand. He would need to get more opiates onto it soon, but for the moment the itching was growing all over.

 

He stood and rubbed at his neck idly to relief the tingling that was spreading through his skin. This was unexpected. He reached for the bottle of cough syrup and unceremoniously slathered it over the scaled green patches he could reach. The itching was nearly unbearable in just the few steps it took to get to his table and he had to resist the urge to claw off his own skin.

 

He closed his eyes and gripped the bottle, trying to put his mind somewhere else.

 

The itching did not cease, despite his best efforts to remove himself from the situation. He retired back to his chair, hoping the pressure against those patches he could not reach would help to sate the terrible crawling sensation. 

 

It was then that he looked down at his arm and realized the opiates were no longer doing what he expected, and that the crawling sensation under his skin was a literal crawling. Then the boils burst and bat like creatures ripped out of his flesh violently, heading for the nearest window en masse and breaking through it into the cold night air.

 

Egon did the only thing he could do in that moment.

 

He screamed in agony.


	7. Domination

Janine wasn’t aware how hard she had been gripping the steering wheel until Kylie made a soft comment wondering what the creaking noise was.

 

“Oh, uh, sorry...” Janine murmured, loosening her grip. 

 

Right now it was just her and Kylie in her pink VW, while Roland had taken Eduardo and Garrett in his Mustang. They’d agreed that splitting up was a better idea for tracking and had acquired a pair of long-range radios from the mess back at the Firehouse to keep in touch with.

 

“It’s alright.” Kylie bit her lip, looking down at the PKE meter. It cast a green glow to her already pale complexion, giving her an eerie look.

 

“Anything?” Janine rolled to a stop behind an 18-wheeler.

 

“Faint, but it’s getting a little stronger while we’re headed this way. Maybe the Brooklyn Bridge?”

 

“This road’ll take us all the way there.” Janine hazarded a smile. “Maybe we can make a pit stop at my apartment and get something to eat, I’m starving.”

 

“Sure, whatever.” Kylie was back to being confrontational again. Great.

 

“What is your deal?” The words came out before she could stop them.

 

“I don’t have a deal. What’s your deal?” Kylie snapped back. 

 

Okay, she deserved that. It didn’t help cool her temper any though. “Oh, you’ve been shooting daggers at me since day one, you’ve got a problem with me and it’s better to get it over and done with now before we’re shooting at this...thing.” 

 

The truck started to move and Janine was quick to follow, then pass it. She could see Kylie glowering down at the PKE meter out of the corner of her eye.

 

“I...Don’t have anyone. After Grandma Rose died no one in my family gave a shit about me. I started researching the occult because, I dunno, I wanted to make sure she was in a good place. Someplace better. I found Dr Spengler’s book, and the foreword...Where he talks about death as being just a passage from one place to another, and how...Human spirits lingering behind is usually a result of leaving something unfinished, or unhappiness, or trauma... It just made everything seem okay again. Because Grandma Rose isn’t here, she’s just somewhere else, and since she never manifests she’s probably happy wherever she is.”

 

“Oh, Kylie...”

 

“Don’t. Just don’t even. That’s it. That’s my deal, and while its really none of your business, now you can trust me not to shoot you or something.”

 

Janine chewed her lip for a moment, listening to the increasing tempo from the PKE meter as they approached the bridge. “I’m sorry, for what its worth.”

 

“Yeah well....” Kylie ran a hand through her hair. The PKE gave an abrupt screech and the screen went black.

 

“Whoa!” Janine pulled over, flicking on her emergency lights. “What just happened?”

 

“I don’t know! It just died all of a sudden!” Kylie twisted the dials, trying to get it to turn back on to no avail.

 

Janine grabbed the radio. “Roland, boys, our PKE just died on us. We’re just off the Brooklyn Bridge, where are you?”

 

“We’re in Brooklyn, heading back your way. Our meter’s going nuts!” Garrett’s voice came through. Eduardo was saying something she didn’t quite get in the background.

 

“Eddie says its going all weird now and...Whoa! Roland, what the hell, man?”

 

There was a pause and Janine looked up long enough to see that traffic was gridlocked and people were running past them towards the city. She caught Kylie’s eye, nodding at the back seat where they had their packs.

 

Kylie climbed over the partition and get one of the packs on, getting ready to spring into action.

 

“I think you girls ought to head onto the bridge, we’ll meet you in the middle.”

 

“Roger that.” Janine clipped the radio to one of her pockets and climbed out, gathering her pack from Kylie as she exited the backseat. 

 

“Alright, lets go kick some ghost butt.” She smiled at her compatriot. “Promise not to shoot me?”

 

“I guess I can try.” Kylie returned the smile weakly, a little pale at the thought of what they had to face now.

 

“Then lets get a move on.” Janine turned and shoved her way through the oncoming crowd. “Ghostbusters, comin’ though!”

 

***

 

Sure enough, around the center of the bridge Achira was perched on a brick support, watching the fleeing crowd with amusement. 

She caught sight of Janine and Kylie as they made their way through the onslaught, howling in fury. “You dare to approach me! Achira, purveyor of the prophecy of plague, servant of the one who rides the pale horse!”

 

“Well, she can sure talk,” Garrett said as he rolled up next to them. Behind him Roland and Eduardo followed, looking less enthusiastic.

 

“How are we going to bust her when she’s way up there?” Roland asked.

 

“We just gotta get her down to this level.” Janine replied. 

 

“And we do that...how?” Eduardo grimaced up at the ranting creature.

 

“I...don’t really know. We’ll try shooting at her first. Fire on three.” Janine armed her pack, glad for the comforting hum. The hairs on the back of her neck rose. Around her she heard the kids turning on their packs, waiting for her signal.

 

“Alright...One...”

 

Achira focused on them, stopping her rant.

 

“Two...”

 

She opened her maw wide and roared. Somehow the sound of it made Janine feel sick to her stomach.

 

“Th-”

 

That was the point at which Achira spat a glob of green, sticky mess at them, which instantly caught fire in midair.

 

“Look out!” Eduardo shrieked, jumping on Kylie and knocking her out of the way just in time. They scattered, finding cars to hide behind. 

 

The goo splattered on the pavement and nearby cars, burning green and black and smelling like death.

 

“I didn’t know she could do that! Did you know she could do that?!” Garrett yelled from behind a battered old white Silica. 

 

“Do you think I knew she could do that?!” Janine screamed back.

 

“Hey, Eduardo, Kylie, are you okay?” Roland called, running over to hide with Janine. Eduardo and Kylie had taken shelter behind a truck in front of the them. Janine registered somewhere that his pack was making a worrisome noise.

 

“Eduardo broke his nose!” Kylie’s voice called back. “I don’t think he can do much right now!”

 

“Get him out of here then!” Janine told her. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath. “Alright, where is she now...”

 

“There!” Garrett pointed to where Achira had landed under the support, stalking towards them with deadly intent.

 

“Roland, Garrett, with me!” Janine whipped around the corner of the car and fired at the ghost before she could react to her presence. The beam hit, but didn’t hold her without anyone else to help steady her. 

 

Eduardo and Kylie took the opportunity to make a hasty retreat, which Achira must have noticed as well because she spat another glob of fiery goo at them.

 

Roland came out from behind her and fired his beam as well, driving the creature away from their retreating friends until his pack began to make a high pitched whining noise, joined abruptly by a fast pitched wailing beep.

 

That was about when it hit Janine what the noise she had heard before was. “Roland, get that pack off!” She clawed at the straps, hauling it halfway off his shoulders before he could protest.

 

“What the hell are you-”

 

“A little help here guys!” Garrett yelled, having added his stream to their efforts. 

 

Kylie came running back to them. “Roland, get that pack off, it’s damaged on the back!”

 

Roland struggled out of the straps, holding it at arms length and looking at Janine desperately. “What do I do with it now!”

 

“Throw it off the bridge, I don’t know!” Janine waved her arms, unable to think of another solution.

 

Roland ran to the side and gave the pack of a heave she hadn’t thought he was capable of, dropping to the ground just in time.

 

Another green fireball sailed overhead and somehow everything seemed to just slow down. Kylie shrieked and grabbed a hold of Janine as they dropped behind the car. Garrett ducked beside them.

 

And then the entire bridge shook under the force of the blast. Everything went quiet, save for a tinny ringing sound Janine couldn’t shake from her ears. A spray of mist washed over everything and the lights went out from the bridge clear back to the city. Dust mixed with the mist, casting everything in gray - what little she could see anyway.

 

“Everyone okay?” She asked. That was the point at which she realized she couldn’t hear anything. She grabbed Kylie’s arm and shook her, forcing her to her feet and making her look at her. 

 

Kylie looked shaken, covered in gray muck, her eyes huge in her dirty face. 

 

Janine pointed at Garrett, got a nod from the girl, and ran to check on Roland herself. The kid was moving, but probably dazed as much as the rest of them. She helped him over to the nearest car, so he’d have some shelter, before going to where she had last seen Eduardo.

 

Eduardo was sitting up against a car bumped, his head tilted forward and blood seeping through his fingers. At her touch he just waved her off, sliding the trap he had to her and shaking her head subtly. He was out commission.

 

Janine grabbed the trap and stepped back between the cars, looking for Achira again in the silence and darkness. Several cars were still running, doors open, so she reached in and turned on their brights as she found them.

 

The ghost had retreated a short distance and was watching them, her mouth twisted in a grin. She was saying something, but hell if Janine could hear it. She got up next to Garrett and Kylie and touched their shoulders, pointing at the ghost.

 

They each got their positron wands ready, aiming and firing without any direction.

 

Achira sidestepped the beams with far too much ease, throwing her head back with a laugh. Around her fluttered some kind of debris, swirling like a tornado. Then the debris came towards them, and in the light cast by the car lights Janine could see that they were not pieces of paper or dust, but winged little things that definitely did not look friendly.

 

She started shooting at them, but there were too many to shoot all at once. Kylie batted at her hair, knocking several out before they could bite her with evil looking needle-sharp teeth.

 

Achira approached them, casually slow.

 

Janine grabbed Kylie’s shoulder and shook her head, pointing at Achira again. Kylie nodded, knocking another of the little bat-things off her shoulder and firing directly at Achira.

 

Garrett’s stream joined hers, then Janine’s own. Achira writhed in their beams, spitting more gooey fireballs as she could, fighting against them and halfway dragging them forward with the sheer force of her struggles.

Janine cut her beam just long enough to slide the trap forward while the other two hauled the ghost forward.

 

Kylie stomped on the trigger, bathing them in white light.


	8. Schism

Egon was glued to the screen as the scene unfolded, a story told entirely with a shaking camera and the hurried blow by blow of a nervous newscaster. He was hardly listening to her chatter, tuning it out in favor of the background noises that could be heard over it. He leaned forward in Peter’s old chair, which creaked threateningly underneath him.

 

The sizzling sound did not bode well for anyone. The mystery of what the sound pertained to was solved in moments. The newscaster shrieked and her hand came into view, pointing skyward. The camera shifted nauseatingly to follow it up into the sky, where an ignited glob of ooze was flying straight towards them. The camera angle changed abruptly, shifting to the ground and running feet. It came back up again several yards away and the ooze smashed into a pink Volkswagen that was unmistakably Janine’s. It melted through the windshield and the whole car went up in flames before a half dozen firemen surrounded it and the camera flicked away.

 

Egon swallowed audibly. He’d never hear the end of that one. 

 

From what he could tell the team had not yet confronted the spectre, but he could see their figures moving around on the bridge. A proton beam arched out of the middle of the cars, just barely missing Achira. That was to be expected; Achira was fast and cleverer than the usual fare. The beam shifted, capturing her briefly, which Achira responded to by vomiting forth another fiery mass. A beam originating from another location drove her back.

 

That was when he heard it, the high pitched alarm he had very specifically installed to announce only one thing. 

 

Critical failure.

 

He stood up, horrified and completely unable to do a thing about it. The figures on the bridge scuffled and he saw the offending item thrown off the bridge before a concussive blast he heard all the way at the Firehouse knocked the line into static.

 

He leaned forward and seized the television in his hands. “O anu eterusunu...” He breathed.

 

Then the power went out. He held his breath for a moment before the emergency lights kicked in with a rattling hum, casting everything in red red red.

 

He let the television go, holding his hands out as if scalded. The containment unit needed checking. The emergency generators needed checking. And he just had so little energy at his disposal to do them, much less try and rationalize what just occurred. 

 

He turned slowly away from the television, furrowing his brow and trying very hard not to calculate the potential casualties either from initial or potential latent effects. Portable nuclear generators were not to be taken lightly. His head began to pound and all he could hear was his heart hammering in his ears as he shuffled so damnably slowly towards the stairs. And then, just like that, the skin affliction fled from his arms and face, fluttering away into the dark like so much dust.

 

He felt hope light in his heart for a moment, but quashed it with the knowledge that the fact the affliction was abolished did not really mean anything aside from the defeat of the ghost and negation of the sustained effects she had controlled.

 

He clenched his hands into fists and stalked down the stairs to fulfill his role. He would worry about retrieving the trap later, the unit was a far more pressing concern. The slightest crack, the loss of any one of the Klein bottles...It didn’t bear dwelling on.

 

And so he lost himself in the task of checking, rechecking, and rechecking the rechecking.

 

He wasn’t entirely sure how long he had spent down there, but by the time he had assured himself the generators were functioning and would continue to function for some time, the unit was not in imminent danger of critical failure, and that nothing had escaped in the minute time it took for the generators to take up their functions he found himself feeling utterly numb inside.

 

So he sat on the stairs and stared at his shoes for a time, unable to will himself to move any further. There was no ghost to fight, there might not be a team to welcome back...There might not be a Brooklyn Bridge anymore for God’s sake. 

 

Yet here he sat. He was going to live - everyone affected was - and yet...Everything had just lost its point. Blown away like smoke. 

 

Vaporized. 

 

Perhaps even atomized.

 

He brought his hands up to his face, feeling the scaly texture that remained from where the patches had been. His hands slid up to his temples and he leaned forward until his elbows met his elbows.

 

The trap.

 

He had one more thing to do. One more thing to do, then he could stop and digest this further because for once nothing made sense and he felt that nothing would make sense until all was said and done. 

 

With that thought he dragged himself up the stairs. He had one more responsibility. Just the one.

 

For now, all he could do was put one foot in front of the other, and for a time that might be all he could do. He knew that he would continue to do so even if he wasn’t aware he was going through the motions.

 

If that was what it took.


	9. Still Night

“Hey, thanks again...” Officer Meredith rubbed the back of his neck.

 

“Don’t mention it,” Janine smiled at him from the passenger seat. Eduardo and Kylie were situated in the back, Kylie doing her best to help Eduardo keep from bleeding all over the interior.

 

They had all mutually insisted on being taken directly back to the Firehouse to empty the trap before anything else could go wrong. The unfortunate part of it was that, due to the power outage, traffic was a total B.

 

Regardless, they were back and they were safe, if not unscathed. Officer Meredith slipped around to Janine’s side to open her door for her, an action for which she was grateful since she had stupidly burned her hands on the hot trap in her eagerness to pick it up and get it off the bridge. 

 

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

 

“Hey, would you mind giving them a ride to the hospital?” Janine nodded over at Eduardo and Kylie, who gave her an offended look she tried to ignore.

 

"Ambulance is already on it's way."

 

She smiled at the officer, resisting the urge to pat him on the arm. “Thank you.”

 

“‘Ey, I can’t afford that!” Eduardo squawked, nasally and distorted.

 

"Stop talking and hold your head _up_ " fussed Kylie unsympathetically.

 

“I’ve had a broken nose b’fore,” he groused.

 

"Stop..." 

 

Janine rolled her eyes, grabbed the trap by the cord despite her aching hands, and walked to the door, which Officer Meredith also opened for her. 

 

She stepped past him with a quick ‘thanks’ and hollered into the cavernous darkness. “Hey Egon! Got any ice packs?”

 

He loomed out of the dark, pale and bearing circles under his eyes so dark she was fairly certain they were permanent by now. He said nothing, just looked down at the trap in her hands blankly, then back up at her. It was easily the most frightening expression she’d ever beheld on him; just a complete absence of thought.

 

Behind her Roland and Garrett filed in, having finally found a place to park his Mustang.

 

“Get a meter,” she muttered to them, but all Roland produced was the smoking husk of the one they had been using. Well that was just great.

 

“You got the ghost,” he said, finally, after an uncomfortably long silence. It was hard to hear him over the ringing in her ears, but she caught enough to understand. A statement of fact, monotoned without emotion. His mouth flickered into a quavering smile. “That’s good. Very good.”

 

“Um...Yeah...So. Ice packs.” Garrett cut in. “‘Cause Eddie boy here really needs one.”

 

"I'm _fine_!" he snarled, provoking an equally annoyed snarl from Kylie.

 

“No, you aren’t, and stop moving so much, you’re making it worse!”

 

"You are!" Eduardo tried to push her tissue clenching fist away. "Geddoff!"

 

“Ice packs, yes.” Egon didn’t react to their arguing whatsoever, but seemed to register Eduardo had just spattered blood all over the floor and turned away, limping slowly up the stairs.

 

Janine watched him go, furrowing her brow in concern. “Roland, let’s go take care of the trap...”

 

“We’re coming too!” Kylie turned to Janine. “I want to see this thing put away.”

 

"Ow!" Apparently she had bumped Eduardo’s nose in the process of turning.

 

Garrett watched the entire scenario with amusement. "I thought you said you wanted to play doctors and nurses with her?" 

 

Eduardo turned to glare at him, demonically. "I will kill you."

 

"You'd have to catch me first!"

 

“Children,” Janine monotoned, still clutching the trap cable in her burnt hands. She had no patience left at this point, and so turned and walked down the stairs with Roland in her wake. Garrett made for the elevator but made a disappointed noise when he found out the power outage affected that too.

 

“So, show me how this works,” Roland said, still curious despite the whole ordeal. 

 

Janine shot him a quick smile and gave him the quick and dirty trap cleaning spiel, demonstrating with the trap containing Achira. It was over so quickly it seemed simply too easy. She sighed and almost ran her hands through her hair before remembering the burns and letting them drop to her sides. Now she knew how the guys had felt after a particularly difficult bust...

 

With that done they headed back upstairs into a considerably less chaotic reception area. 

 

Eduardo had retreated to Dr V’s chair and was holding the ice pack to his face while Kylie watched the door for the ambulance. Officer Meredith was apparently negotiating giving Garrett a ride back home.

 

Egon stood a little apart from them, a first aid kit clutched in his hands, still looking more than a little out of sorts. 

 

Janine nudged Roland in the arm with her elbow and nodded at Eduardo before going over to Egon. “Egon...Are you alright?”

 

He blinked at her owlishly. “Yes, once the virus...was...” He trailed off and suddenly looked upset. “Oh, Janine, your hands.”

 

Janine looked down and grimaced at them. The burns weren’t bad for the most part, but the heel of her palms where her thumbs began were a vibrant red and the skin was already peeling away. 

 

“Come upstairs,” he commanded, walking up to the landing and pausing to wait for her.

 

Janine looked over her shoulder at Roland, who nodded once and made a gesture along the lines of ‘go on, get’. She sighed and trailed Egon up the stairs, looking down at her palms miserably. How was she going to take notes like this? She honestly had not realized how bad they were, but that could be attributed to the adrenaline she was still feeling.

 

Once up the stairs he wordlessly pushed the bathroom door open and turned the cold tap up on the sink, making a motion for her to put her hands under the cool water. He disappeared around the corner and she heard the guest room door opening.

 

Janine put her hands under the stream, wincing at the pressure and the fact it had just now hit her how badly they burned. How the hell had she carried that trap? She bit her lip and looked up at herself in the mirror, hardly recognizing herself in the moonlight. The cut on her forehead had reopened at some point and added new blood streaks across her brow, fortunately not getting into her eye. Her face was liberally covered in gritty soot. She couldn’t see much else.

 

A click behind her heralded the dim yellow glow of a light and she turned to look, then immediately regretted it. Dim as it was, her eyes had no time to adjust to a miner’s helmet pointed directly into them. She pulled her hands out of the water, which was becoming uncomfortably cold, and squinted.

 

“Come out here, I need to see.” The light shifted sideways, then was aimed down at the table where it shivered briefly and went still.

 

Janine shut the tap off with her knuckles and almost gasped at how hard it was to curl her fingers. She made her way into the living room, still blinking spots out of her eyes, and nearly tripped over Egon’s legs. He scuttled away across the couch, which she sat down on, laying her singed hands out in the pooled light for examination. 

 

His hands, larger and calloused, came out of the gloom beside her and gently turned them this way and that. “What happened?”

 

“Achira.”

 

“Aside from that.”

 

“...I forgot how hot the traps get and tried to pick it up by the box like an idiot,” she groused, a little embarrassed.

 

“We should have insulated them better to begin with, but the design was so much more conducive to disposal...” he muttered, releasing her hands and cracking open the first aid kit. “You should go to the hospital with Eduardo, this is going to hinder you and this-” he indicated the blistering on the heels of her palms “-is a second degree burn.”

 

Janine shook her head. “All I want to do right now is get a shower and sleep. I’m just going to go ho-” she halted, recalling that her car was totally and utterly in ruins. “Damn it!” She stood up, stomping her foot and instantaneously remembering the bruise on her ass with that motion. “I need to call my insurance company and...Augh!”

 

“Tomorrow. We can claim it on our insurance maybe, we’ll see...Come back here and at least let me wrap your hands so they don’t get infected.” 

 

Janine sat with a huff, scowling down at her hands. “Car’s gone, no hot water, and my hands look like tomatoes. It just can’t get any better.”

 

“You’re alive.” It was said so softly she almost didn’t hear it. He cleared his throat and repeated himself as he pulled clean white gauze from the kit. “You’re alive. The kids are alive. I’m rather glad for that much.”

 

Janine scuffed a foot on the floor, not really willing to confront her own mortality. “Yeah, well...”

 

“You did good out there, all of you,” he said, wrapping her hands gently. Even that much was painful.

 

“We did what had to be done, you know? Nothing you guys haven’t done before.” She watched his hands move, a little shaky and still scaly in spots. “Are you alright?” She asked once again.

 

“I’m fine,” he replied, quietly. “I may have scars for a while afterward, but they will fade eventually.”

 

“I didn’t mean physically.”

 

He paused, hands frozen for a moment, before he continued his progress and tied the bandages just below her wrists. “I’m fine.”

 

She sighed. She knew it was an evasive answer but really couldn’t muster the energy to drag it out of him. She didn’t much want to think about the implications either. “I’m going home. I bet Meredith or Roland could give me a ride home...” She trailed off, and recalled that her purse had been in her car. “Crap, my keys were in my car...Maybe management’s still awake.” She flexed her hands, testing the bandages and wincing as it stretched too-tight skin.

 

Without waiting for his response she headed back down the stairs, blinking as she adjusted to the dark again.

 

“Yo, Miss M.” Garrett waved at her from the bottom of the stairs. Eduardo and Kylie were already gone, presumably in the ambulance. “Officer Meredith said it’s gonna take forever to get across town in this mess, so...Do you think the Prof would be upset if we stayed the night here?”

 

“That’s fine,” Egon said from behind her. Janine almost jumped right onto the landing, having been unaware he had followed her. 

 

Janine looked back at Garrett and shrugged.

 

“Where are Eduardo and Kylie?” Egon asked.

 

“Ambulance, they’re gonna go to the hospital to at least get Ed’s nose looked at. Meredith went with so he could use his sirens too.”

 

Egon nodded curtly and turned to walk back up the stairs. “The bunk room is on the third floor. I’ll be in the lab if you need me.” And like that he was gone.

 

Janine looked back at Garrett who nodded at the elevator, then shook his head. She sighed and went down to help Roland assist him up the stairs - something Garrett quietly informed them he would kill them if it was mentioned later, after thanking them - and into the bunk room. By then she had decided she should stay there as well, just seeing a bed made her feel ten times more tired than she had before. Between the three of them they managed to dust off the bedding enough for the night. Janine couldn’t help but steal glances across the hall at the closed lab doors. Light seeped out below them, but no sounds came out. 

 

“Ms. Melnitz?” Roland asked quietly near her shoulder. “If Professor Spengler alright? He seemed a little...”

 

“Yeah, I know.” Janine bit her lip, thinking it over. “He’ll talk about it when he’s comfortable. Right now I think a good night’s sleep is what all of us need the most.”

 

That said, they retired to their respectively staked out beds, wished each other a good night, and turned out the lights. For a while Janine lay awake, snuggled under Ray’s faded comforter, feeling the ache spreading in her hands and watching the lights in the lab for any movement, of which there was none. She wasn’t sure when she had finally fallen asleep, but she was aware that at some point in the night the door to the bunk room had been shut and the light across the hall went out. She hadn’t really been aware of when or how that occurred, just registered it in a bleary half sleep before the dark swallowed her up again.


	10. Junktion

“You know, if you stay up much longer I’m pretty sure the walls are going to start talking to you.”

 

Egon, for his part, did not let on how startled he was at the sudden presence at the top of the stairs. He had been sitting at the basement desk for some time, studying the containment unit and composing a method of upgrade for it in his head. He looked up at Janine over his glasses, leaving her a vague peachy-red blur against an already red backdrop. She nearly disappeared. He adjusted his glasses so he could actually see her. “Remind me to regale you with the story of my conversation with Einstein someday.” 

 

He hoped that she would take the hint and leave him to think on his current issue but she just crossed her arms at him and waited.

 

There was really no winning with her. 

 

“Did the insurance company get back to you?” He looked at the sketches strewn across the desk.

 

Her footsteps clanged down the staircase. “That actually isn’t what I was here to talk about, but yeah, they got back to me and most of it’s pretty much being taken care of. We aren’t being sued for once, which is a miracle in and of itself.” She halted at his elbow, looking over his shoulder at the sketches.

 

“‘We’?” He questioned, scrawling an x through a design with no probability of becoming a reality. 

 

“I sort of figured, you’d mentioned something about rising paranormal activity...” She let it trail off.

 

He looked at her - not at her face, but at her bandaged hands - and shook his head. “I don’t know...I still can’t lift a pack, your hands are injured, and the others are...”

 

“Very capable.” Janine interjected. “Besides, proton slinging isn’t in my job description.” He could hear the smile in her voice.

 

“Oh?” He scratched another x and resisted the need to scratch the back of his hand while he was at it. Since Achira’s defeat the scaly parts of his skin had been flaking off, leaving tender new skin underneath. He had learned very quickly that no matter how much it itched he must not disturb it if at all possible. It made sleeping very difficult both for the overwhelming irritation and the fact he tended to scratch in his sleep.

 

Waking up once with blood spots on the sheets was disturbing enough for him.

 

“I mean, someone has to look after the finances, right?”

 

“I was not aware you had not been taking care of that already,” he reminded her. Janine had, ever since the closure of the business, still been handling their finances once Louis Tully was off their payroll. A few clever investments had kept the power running at least, with Egon himself taking care of most of the repairs out of his teaching salary. 

 

It still struck him as so very odd that they had avoided seeing each other in person for so long. He studied her hands again as they hovered over the desk as though she wanted to lean on it but could not due to her injuries.

 

He scrawled several more x’s through trap designs without sufficient insulation, perhaps a little more violently than he had intended.

 

“And have the kids decided this is such a good idea after all that?” He paused, pen poised above his sketches, to reconsider the circular trap idea. It might be easier to throw, but how were they supposed to get the ghosts into containment? It would require a redesign to the containment access, but would allow for more insulation and a wider base to prevent it being knocked awry.

 

He circled it and set it aside, wishing he had Raymond there to tell him when the theoretical was bordering on mythical again.

 

“Garrett was asking about it the day after. I think Roland’s on board too.”

 

He was surprised at her omission of Kylie; he had expected her, of any of them, to be the one most interested in taking up the profession if the opportunity presented itself.

“You can talk to them yourself at our next class.” It was as if she’d read his mind.

 

He shook his head though. “No, I can’t. It was specifically in the contract that I couldn’t educate on the subject using any kind of reference to Ghostbusters. They’d either cut the class from the curriculum or fire me immediately.”

 

“I think they might have a different opinion of that now...” Janine sounded more than pleased with herself and he looked up at her, crooking a brow.

 

“Let’s just say Mayor McShane took a dip in popularity because he didn’t listen to a certain someone, there was a mass illness cured, and all the papers know just where to point.” She grinned. “Not one mention of that thing with the mental institution either, except one passing reference to a violation of doctor-patient privacy.”

 

Egon allowed himself a faltering smile. “Well...That’s good.”

 

Her expression changed, becoming more stern. “In all seriousness, though, get your ass to bed. You look like death warmed over.”

 

Egon held in a wince at the phrase. “I will once I finish this...” He scratched out another design.

 

She sighed behind him and he felt something warm touch his shoulder fleetingly, but when he looked up to question it she was already on her way to the stairs without a backwards glance.

 

He looked back at his work and was unable to stifle a yawn, removing his glasses to rub at his sinuses. It probably was quite late by now. Leaving his plans until later he stood, stretched, and made his way up the stairs. The clock on Janine’s desk informed him it was only 9:00, and without another to confirm he accepted that as the correct time.

 

He started for the next flight of stairs, but a sudden need drew him to the phone. He sat down at Janine’s desk, dusting it off and dialing a familiar number.

 

It rang once.

Twice.

 

“Hello?” A woman’s voice came through, sounding a little confused.

 

“Hi Mom, it’s me.” He smiled. “How are you?” A pause while he listened. “Yes, I'm fine...Yes... Yes... No, no she isn't here... Mom. Mom listen. I just wanted to say...I love you."

 

He waited until she finished her half of the conversation, explaining what she had been doing lately - Tae Bo was her new thing apparently, she was still in surprisingly good shape for her age - and promised to call more often before giving his regards and hanging up, feeling much better in general.

 

He’d have to call the guys tomorrow.

 

\---

 

“Yes...Ray. Really, we’re fine.”

 

He peered into the downstairs lab, where Roland was hard at work machining the parts that could be made on sight. He was no Ray yet, but he was naturally talented and with enough study he could very likely be strong competition for said engineer.

 

“I had my doubts as well, but the figures don’t lie. We’re on the brink of another spike in activity. I’m still trying to calculate how long it should last before we hit another valley.” He wandered back towards the reception area, which Janine was guiding Garret and Eduardo in cleaning up. Since for the time being her hands hurt too badly for her to use them often the boys were doing the heavy lifting for her - gingerly, since Eduardo was nursing his broken nose. Kylie was seated at Venkman’s desk, correlating his figures on the upsurging PKE to past figures. Tedious work, but it seemed to suit her. Maybe she would go into research.

 

“No, I don’t foresee it falling that quickly. It is at least enough to warrant rebuilding the equipment now that we know degradation has caused defectiveness in some of it.”

 

“Is that Ray?” Janine asked, looking over her shoulder.

 

Egon nodded at her.

 

“Tell him I said hi, would ya?” She went back to directing Garrett and Eduardo to move the scattered banker’s boxes to the far wall so she could sort the files personally later.

 

“Ray, Janine wanted to say...Oh.” He held the cordless out to her. “Raymond wants to talk to you.”

 

She took the phone gingerly and got it up to her shoulder, where she cradled it against her ear. “Ray, how are you? How’s the kids?...Mmhm.” Though she had her back partially to him he could see the fond smile stretching her cheeks. “God, they must be getting huge by now.”

 

Egon smiled faintly, casting another glance around at the proceedings before heading for the stairs, and further on the upstairs laboratory.

 

Things were about to change for the better, he could feel it in his bones.


End file.
